


Alone

by Gilda



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Loneliness, Missed Opportunities, Misunderstandings, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4419428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilda/pseuds/Gilda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time frame: Set some time after series 2 / ep. 8. Series 3 doesn’t exist!<br/>Description: Camille is excited – her friend from teenage times is about to visit for an extended period of time, considering moving back to Saint Marie altogether. Richard isn’t particularly impressed with the situation. - Rating goes up to M for Chapter 13, just to be on the safe side :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clouds on the Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks everyone for the positive feedback on my first story. Here's another one that I hope you will also enjoy. Special thanks to left_to_write for beta-reading - English is not my mother tongue, so having a reliable proofreader is vital :-) Feel free to comment - all feedback is appreciated!

It was Monday morning. Richard Poole was sitting in his kitchen and wondering where Camille was – she was running late once again. Just as he was about to call her, he heard the Defender approaching – so he went outside to greet his DS with a decidedly grumpy “You are late!”

She beamed at him and said “And a very good morning to you, too,” – it was their usual game in the mornings these days when she came to pick him up. As he climbed into the car, he expected her to start one of her monologues and go on about whatever topic crossed her mind – maybe a forthcoming festival in Honoré (one of the three hundred festivals that there were every year – Richard had lost count!), an article she had read in a magazine, a piece of news or gossip – or worse, a rundown on how her evening out last night had gone. Richard always felt as old as the hills when she was going on about how she had gone here and there, how she had danced and met all sorts of people. 

It seemed to him that this was all she was doing, but in all fairness – that was selective perception from his side, and deep down he knew that. It was just that these tales hurt him most as they made him feel left out and even lonelier than he already did under normal circumstances. Admittedly, it had become better recently – he had regularly joined the team for drinks at La Kaz over the past months, and since his return from England a little while ago, he had even started to stay there longer every once in a while and have a beer or two instead of rushing home to his “monastic cell” – as Camille still liked to call it - immediately after his tea was finished. He had got to know a few more people that way and didn’t feel so much like the odd man out anymore. He had even started to play backgammon or chess with some of the regulars at La Kaz, when the mood struck him. But he still spent a lot of time sitting on the fence and watching others having fun. 

Bouts of loneliness still hit him occasionally – particularly on weekends. Actually, it had been his own distant manner that had made people refrain from approaching him and asking him to join in weekend activities or just spend time on the beach or elsewhere – during the first year on the island he had been so dismissive about spending time with others out of work that nobody made an effort any longer. 

In his experience, people were capricious and often unreliable, and he had a hard time trusting them. You were better off not expecting anything – then at least you wouldn’t be disappointed. It took him a while to realise that the concept of small talk was also valid for other activities. You didn’t have to be best friends with someone for playing chess with them – of course, he rationally had known that before, but it hadn’t occurred to him to actually follow this route in real life.

So, it was as if he mostly existed as an “official figure” during the week – and at weekends, he was non-existent for others. It had its advantages as he knew he’d have peace and quiet which he needed for regeneration and regrouping, and he actually enjoyed his own company most of the time – but the downside naturally was that he was basically isolated and cut off from others – unless he went shopping, visited a museum on Guadeloupe, or ventured out for a walk in the evening, and that was only a very superficial way of having contact with other people. 

He had started to look forward to Mondays when he’d see his team again, and despite his demonstrative lack of interest, he enjoyed hearing about everyone’s weekend activities – provided they didn’t only consist of dancing, drinking and partying. Fidel sometimes talked about Juliet and Rosie, about family gatherings and their attempts to revamp their house, Dwayne regularly came up with lots of gossip and rumours – he seemed to know literally everyone on Saint Marie and was firmly rooted in the island grapevine. 

And Camille – well, she really didn’t party and dance all the time – she sometimes talked about how a supplier had let down her mother, how some odd guest at the bar had misbehaved or how prices for certain products seemed to rise without any good reason. Every once in a while she would rave about a pair of shoes or a dress she had seen – weird choice of topic, Richard felt, but he had learnt to be patient with her. If she showed any sign of dismay, he’d just make it worse because then she’d feel provoked into going on about it even more…

So, it was a lot of general chit-chat, and while it had irritated Richard during the first months of his time as Chief of Police, he had got used to it in the meantime and actually rather liked it. He just couldn’t contribute much to it – but every once in a while, he had the chance to add a little… like when his washing machine nearly gave up the ghost and he could prevent a flood in his shack just in the nick of time… 

Oh, what an exciting life he had, he thought sarcastically. The truth was – he had no idea how it could be any different from this. He was pretty much set in his ways, and he actually felt comfortable with it – mostly. Except for when that nagging feeling came – that there had to be more to life…

At least people let him be – and he wasn’t the butt of every joke anymore as he had been in Croydon. People there hadn’t respected him as a person – it had only been the title and the status in the police station. Here, it was different – the team had accepted him (after an initial period of mutual bewilderment), and they respected him not only for his professional qualities, but also seemed to be happy to spend time with him when the occasion was there. 

He wasn’t used to that, and at first he couldn’t quite believe it – so he turned down offers to go for drinks and such. They stopped, and he thought he had been right – they had just been being polite. It took a rant from his side and a pointed remark from Camille’s to make him understand that his pretexts and excuses had been perceived in a “he doesn’t want to spend time with us, so why keep asking” context – and that he had unintentionally hurt people with his behaviour – when all he had wanted was sparing them and him the embarrassment of trying to be friendly when there was no common ground to move on, as far as he could see.

Sometimes during their rides to work in the mornings, Camille would criticise him for being grumpy, and they developed a refined ritual of different variations on the same topic – he had to admit that he secretly enjoyed these exchanges, and he suspected she felt the same way. 

Maybe this was his lucky day, and she’d rather get into that today and spare him the details of her weekend adventures? 

But no… He heard her saying “You know what I heard this weekend?” He sighed in exasperation. “I have no idea, Camille - as you know very well! Do you want me to guess, or are you planning on telling me anyway?” 

Depending on her mood, she would either go off and explode like a firecracker – or just laugh at him. This morning, it was the latter. She obviously was in a brilliant mood. Good grief. He felt a detailed description coming on of who told her what - half of the time he had no clue whom she was talking about, and it took him forever to figure out who the person in question was and what it was that the rumour or piece of news really made so significant… but she surprised him again. 

She said “The Commissioner and his wife came to La Kaz on Saturday – Marcus will be visiting soon, and I’m so excited to see him again!” She beamed at him.

“Great, Camille… and if you kept your eyes on the road and then enlightened me on who this famous Marcus is, I’d be eternally grateful” was his sardonic reply. This woman had a habit of jumping right into things that could be really irritating. However… If the Commissioner was involved, it seemed wise to show at least some interest. Richard knew that Camille had reported directly to the Commissioner when she worked undercover, and he was good friends with Catherine, so he and his wife were basically like extended family to the Bordeys. Not to mention he was formally the head of the station, and he could be rather unnerving and definitely sneaky sometimes. Richard preferred being cautious in the Commissioner’s presence – you never knew what he was up to.

“Marcus is the Commissioner’s nephew.” She gave him a sideways glance and abruptly steered the car to the middle of the road as she tried to avoid a pothole right on the shoulder. “Well, more precisely, his wife’s nephew.” Richard gratefully noted that Camille spared him the details of Mrs Patterson’s family tree. There were few things he was less interested in, to be honest. He thought that family ties were massively over-rated, anyway. Just because you shared the same genes, that didn’t mean you had a lot in common. Humans supposedly shared half of their genetic material with bananas (with some people you clearly noticed more than with others) and over 98 per cent with some chimps – so, in the end, what did it mean that you came from the same family and the same genetic background? He was clever enough to keep these thoughts to himself. He knew they wouldn’t go down too well with Camille. 

She continued “The family used to live on Guadeloupe, but they visited regularly, and Marcus often spent the long school holidays with the Pattersons here on Saint Marie. We were such great friends back then… When I was 17, they moved away to the US – his father worked for an international company, and they transferred him to the East Coast. Marcus took the chance to go to college and university there. I know he has been back to Guadeloupe and Saint Marie several times, but I only saw him once when we were here for Christmas the same year – that was while I was serving in Paris. So, it’s been a while. It seems he’s thinking about moving back to the Caribbean permanently, but that’s not entirely sure yet, from what the Commissioner said.”

“Ah,” was Richard’s vague response. His thoughts wandered away from science and genetics and moved more into the area of self-concern. He saw more loneliness coming his way. When this Marcus guy showed up, Camille would want to spend time with him, reminiscing about the past and talking about their adventures together as teenagers. She wouldn’t come round in the evenings anymore to have a beer or a glass of wine at his shack – she had taken to doing so every once in a while… well, admittedly, it had been once or twice a week over the past few months. He never knew when she’d turn up, so he didn’t count on anything, but he was genuinely pleased when she took the time to come and see him.

When he had been transferred to Saint Marie and got to know Camille, she had irritated him beyond belief, and – although he never admitted it, not even to himself – she had scared him out of his wits. Neither was the case anymore. She still could be a little intimidating, but he had come to trust her, and she didn’t make him feel stupid anymore. At least not constantly…

Things had changed gradually, particularly after they had caught the murderer of Camille’s friend Aimee Fredericks, and so he had been pleased when she began to drop by in the evenings after a while. It had been nice to have company other than Harry the lizard, and it didn’t take him longer than a week anymore to empty a bottle of wine, so he had been able to try some more sorts. That was a welcome side-effect of her visits! Not that they’d sink into the depths of alcoholism together – neither of them had more than one glass of wine per evening, but well, the bottle got emptier more quickly with her help…

She was intelligent and fun to talk to. He’d miss her sitting on the veranda with him, talking about all sorts of subjects, poking fun at him and trying to make him admit things he didn’t want to talk about. 

Sometimes, she irritated him, and they ended up in a shouting match. She sometimes pushed him to the limits and beyond. He could become rather obnoxious when provoked and teased about things that were important to him, and sometimes the words had come out a lot harsher than he had intended them to say. Camille had flounced off in anger a couple of times. When that had happened the first time, he had realised his mistake as soon as she had stormed off and left him sitting on his veranda, totally perplexed – and after some inner debating, he had sent her a text saying “Sorry. Please forgive me. What can I do to fix it?” 

He didn’t know - but she smiled broadly when she read it. She had sent him a text in response to let him know that he’d be forgiven if he did penance by buying her a drink or some treat on the next day. They established a pattern with that, and with time, he had got a rather clear idea of what sort of treats she liked – and so he was getting acquainted with a plethora of French words for chocolates, sweets and bakery goods that he never knew existed. Seriously, he had no idea how she managed to stay so slim and lithe – she seemed to eat sweet stuff all the time!

But it didn’t always turn out that way. Once she provoked him so much that he almost exploded at her – and while he was standing there, red-faced, fuming so she could almost see the steam coming out of his ears, she had taken the wind out of his fully billowed sails by beginning to giggle and exclaiming (between fits of laughter) “Oh, this is so funny! I bet you’d give anything if you could just flounce off the way I sometimes do… but you can’t do that in your own house, Richard!” She wiped off the tears of laughter, extended her hand to touch his arm lightly, and came up with an offer of conciliation: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that in the first place. You have every reason to be angry. Please, cool down - and let’s make peace – I’ll get you a treat tomorrow!” 

He couldn’t help it; he just had to laugh with her, his anger vanished into thin air – and they were friends again. When she had left that evening, he had mused about how much their relationship had changed from the stormy beginning over two years ago. He still couldn’t understand how she literally threw herself at life and was eager to make new experiences every day, but he found it less disturbing than at first – in fact it fascinated him now.

And on the next morning he had found a tin of jelly babies on his desk. 

At other times, they had conversations that could almost pass as “personal”. He was always very cautious not to reveal too much, but she had a way of challenging him gently that made him let down the drawbridge and let her in – to a certain extent. He had to admit that she also gave him insights into her life and personality that he hadn’t expected her to disclose, so it seemed only fair to be honest with her as well. There weren’t any emotional confessions, but considering how uptight and distant Richard usually was, it certainly went further than Camille would have imagined. He definitely had mellowed quite a bit over time.

One evening, she had brought food from her mother’s place, and after some coaxing from her side, he had reluctantly agreed to sit on the beach – on a blanket she had provided as well – and they had had a picnic together. They got into talking about picnics in general, and he had told her about the many times he had gone to the coast with his parents during school holidays – and they had had a picnic in the car because it had been raining outside. She, on the other hand, had remembered picnics in a smaller, almost ‘tourist-free’ park in Paris with friends during her training period – and how they once had taken along notes as they had wanted to do some revising and recapping of theoretical lessons for an exam… then they had fallen asleep in the sun after having had a little too much food and wine and only woke up when the nearby church bell rang at about 10 o’clock in the late evening. 

They had talked about Paris and London and travelling – and compared their trainings in the respective police forces. Camille had told him how she had been homesick after several years in France and hence had been more than happy when the opportunity to move back to Saint Marie had come up for her. She had admitted that she sometimes got itchy feet now, though, but didn’t plan on leaving for a while because she loved island life and was happy about being reunited with her mother. 

The only thing she seriously missed sometimes was the anonymity of the big city – the fact that people on the island had a tendency to stick their noses into everybody else’s business didn’t always please her so much. Richard had smiled knowingly about her confession – he knew exactly what she was talking about. It clearly unnerved him when people came too close and wanted to know more and more and more about things that were none of their business. But Camille had simply shrugged and remarked “You’ve got to take the good with the bad, obviously. Once I knew I’d return here, I made a conscious decision to accept the differences. It can be challenging sometimes, but overall, it works rather well for me.”

And Richard had talked a bit about his previous jobs, particularly Croydon and how he had hated working with the people there. She already had known this, thanks to Doug Anderson’s appearance on the island a while ago, but he had elaborated a bit further, and although he hadn’t said anything in particular about it, she had understood how lonely he had been feeling – not always, not constantly – but a lot of the time. 

He also had mentioned briefly how upsetting it had been for him to be transferred to Saint Marie, into a climate and conditions he had difficulties with, to solve a case with a team he didn’t know – just to find out that one of the police officers that he had expected to be reliable and trustworthy had been the murderer of her boss. “It was like walking on eggshells literally all the time, you know,” he had said. “There were all sorts of - um - pitfalls, and it was hard to find my way around. And when I realised I couldn’t return to London, I was livid. I felt like they had put me out to pasture, if you know what I mean. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant experience to be pushed out like that.” 

He had never spoken about this before… Camille had listened sympathetically and admitted that she had been utterly furious with him when he had arrested her two years ago and she had had to reveal her identity… which had meant that she had had to return to a regular police job, integrate into a team and – probably worst! - work with him. “That wasn’t easy for me, either,” she had confessed. “I was used to working on my own, independently, and all of a sudden I was treated like a – how do you call it? A subordinate, basically a clueless idiot who has to do all the hard work?” “A dogsbody,” Richard helped out. “Ah. Thank you. Well, I hated it – and it took me a while to come to terms with the new situation!”

Richard had remembered the dressing-down she had given him and admitted to himself that he had deserved it… he really hadn’t been very considerate. It hadn’t occurred to him that it had been difficult for her as well. He had felt a little ashamed when he realised how selfishly he had wallowed in his own misery, without understanding that he hadn’t been the only one who had been thrown into an unfamiliar environment and found it hard to adjust to the new circumstances.

It had been nice to lounge on the blanket, exchange memories and talk about how they had ended up where they were now. He had never thought he’d enjoy that sort of thing. Granted, it wasn’t very comfortable – sand everywhere (even in his socks!), and the blanket was scratchy and smelled of insect repellent – but that evening had been special – and it had strengthened the bond between them.

He had even given her a brief introduction into stargazing on another evening – one of the advantages of living in the middle of nowhere was that the night sky was unspoilt and unpolluted, and you could actually see things that were out of sight in other places. She had listened intently and enjoyed learning from him – that was a completely new experience for him. He hadn’t met anyone who was seriously interested in this subject – let alone a woman. But then, she was not just any woman. She was Camille, and that meant you’d never know what was next.

This all would be over very quickly once her friend from teenage years was back. They shared a history, they had been friends when growing up, for all he knew they might even have been sweethearts – their budding young love might have only been hindered by the family’s move to the States. And of course, Marcus was only a little older than Camille, most likely, he was tall, had a wonderful wavy or even curly shock of dark hair, big brown laughing eyes and a broad smile, showing off immaculate teeth. Richard was well aware of his medium build, his age, his fair, oversensitive, untanned skin, and the lines on his forehead and elsewhere in his face… plus his thinning hair. How depressing, boring and unspectacular.

However, he made an attempt at showing some excitement for Camille’s sake and said “It’s going to be nice for you to reconnect with your friend. Do you know how long he’ll be staying?” He expected she’d say something like “a week” or so – he knew he might not like that, but he’d survive. 

But alas, Camille’s response was not what he had hoped for – she said happily “Oh, the Commissioner’s wife said that Marcus has left the hospital he worked for – he’s a doctor, you know, an orthopaedist, to be more precise! – and wants to take a longer break before deciding where he’ll settle down with his surgery.” 

It was getting better and better, Richard thought morosely. A successful young doctor – and someone Camille knew and liked. And someone who’d perhaps stay on the island to open a surgery… That was more of a threat than any of her blind dates could be… But wait - what direction were his thoughts taking there? He wasn’t jealous, was he?


	2. Arrivals

For the entire week, Richard, Dwayne and Fidel had to listen to Camille talking about Marcus and raving about how much fun they used to have when they were teenagers. Camille appeared to be totally oblivious to the fact that her boss as well as her colleagues were getting thoroughly fed up with hearing about the Commissioner’s nephew. Unfortunately, it was an exceptionally slow week, so she had lots of time to entertain them with countless stories about how she and Marcus had gone surfing, boating and jetskiing (of course, Marcus had had friends in the boat rental business, and sometimes, they even had let him have a jetski) as teenagers, how they had gone dancing together, which clubs had been the most popular ones back then … blah, blah, blah…

After a while, the three men used any excuse to get out of the office, even if it was only for a few minutes. Market patrols had never been that popular before with Fidel and Dwayne. Even Richard came up with the occasional pretext to leave the station. He was glad that he had to go to court one morning where he had to testify in a trial – that gave him space. But of course, the litany started again as soon as he returned to his workplace… 

He couldn’t always get away, so when there was no way to back out, he turned to another strategy. Although he was tempted to tell her to shut up, he didn’t make the mistake of interrupting her, but let her talk – and when it got on his nerves too much he would make a remark that was completely unrelated, like how the fridge didn’t seem to work properly these days, or how the fax machine needed a new load of paper, or how they absolutely had to ask the Commissioner if there was enough money for a new fan. That brought about some activity – the boys got all busy checking out the fridge, the fax machine or the fan – or whatever it was. Camille was then interrupted in her ramblings for at least a few minutes – and it took a little while until she got back to it. They learnt to enjoy those periods of distraction – as long as they lasted. 

It was more than obvious that she was happy to reconnect with an old friend, and while Fidel, Dwayne and even Richard understood this, they got tired of hearing her sing Marcus’s praises.

Camille noticed her colleagues’ slightly negative attitude and was a little offended by their behaviour, but tried not to let it get to her. Since Aimee’s shocking passing she had often felt restless and unsettled as she had lots of acquaintances, but no deep friendships on the island any more. Her friends in Paris – well, she kept in touch via e-mail as far as possible, but it wasn’t the same as sitting together over a drink and laughing about whatever for no reason or discussing everything under the sun. And of course, they had different experiences and different lives, so sometimes it was hard to relate to one another. 

Without thinking, she had turned to Richard in this situation – he had found Aimee’s murderer, he had stood by her side and helped her to get back on her feet in his own understated manner, and he was alone, too. He was totally different from anybody she had known before, and she had to overcome some obstacles as he was oh so very reserved and sometimes just plain awkward, but it had been worth the effort. He had a great sense of humour – although it had taken her a while to understand and acknowledge it. He still drove her batty every once in a while, but their conversations, and yes, even their arguments were always stimulating. She appreciated that – nothing bored her more than people who always agreed with her. 

They had become friends, she thought – maybe even good friends - so it hurt her a little when it became clear that he wasn’t all that excited to meet Marcus. He tried to hide it, but she knew him too well by now. Why wasn’t he happy for her? She wanted him to meet her friend – didn’t he realise that this meant something to her? Of all people she knew, she had expected him to understand best what it was like to feel alone – and how exciting it was to have the chance to reconnect with someone that you like so much. 

Ah well. Most likely, he was just grumpy for some stupid reason. Maybe his lizard hadn’t shown up in a few days, or he hadn’t slept so well in a few nights because of the heat – Richard could be a bit moody then. He’d get over it…

Indeed, Richard hadn’t slept well in a few nights, but that hadn’t been because of the heat, the humidity or – the last and least likely option - a case that might perhaps have rattled him. 

No, Richard was struggling with vivid dreams – and with jealousy. 

Partly, he was jealous because… well, he didn’t really have any old friends to reconnect with, so that was one thing. He had been part of a ‘clique’ in university, but that was all in the past, and he was not really interested in reconnecting with these people. No, not at all… He wasn’t even mildly curious about how they had been faring all those years. Those days were gone…

The other aspect was that he was afraid that Camille would turn away from him now, and he’d end up going back to his lonely ways. Of course, they’d still work together. But he knew he’d miss their evenings on the veranda, and he didn’t want to lose her… 

He dismissed this thought as ridiculous – he had lived on his own for so long, and Camille had only been a part of his life for a little while now, so where was the point, he’d just have his old life back if she didn’t show up on his doorstep any more. 

But no matter how much he argued with himself, it threw him off the rails, and he despised, almost hated himself for being so weak. He didn’t want to need her. He hated to admit to himself that Camille had become so important and special to him, and tried to convince himself that it was nothing but a temporary quirk, a foible, a silly phase. In clearer moments he realised it was more than that – and then he chided himself for letting things get so far that he was on the verge of falling in love with this impossible woman. 

As he tossed and turned in his bed, he recited the “she’s out of my league, and I’m happy on my own” mantra – occasionally, he also alternated it with “I’m not in love, it’s all hormonal”. Not that it helped much – but well, you could always try. 

He got up in the middle of the night to do some stargazing and talk quietly to Lucy – his precision optical instrument – or Harry the lizard. Alas – neither could give him any relevant advice…

He tried to read himself to sleep (pity that his books weren’t boring enough!). 

Sometimes he took showers – it felt good to imagine that the water washed away the worries, the confusion, the strangely exquisite fragments of dreams and the bad thoughts about his own ineptitude. 

Only that it didn’t… but at least the sound and the feel of it helped him to calm down, even though his shower was barely more than a drip. 

Or he listened to some music, classical pieces as well as popular music from his teens and early twenties. While classical music would always be his favourite, he also enjoyed a few selected singers and bands whose music could only be labeled as “popular”. Considering that most of them had been out of the charts since the late 80s or early 90s, though, they all were “oldies” now, anyway. He had invested in a small stereo set (including a USB port! How flashy and hip!) a while ago and packed a box of favourite CDs when he was at home in England – his mother had sent it to him recently, and he enjoyed getting re-acquainted with some artists and their songs that he had almost forgotten. 

Of course, the CDs took up space, but he had found a decent place for them in a sturdy box with a lid and kept them under his bed. He would have used the box his mother had sent them in – but alas, typical of his luck with the Gods of Transport, the postal service had managed to completely mangle it, so it arrived wrapped in plastic foil – he was just glad that the CDs had survived. 

Listening to them was a trip down memory lane – partly a very cathartic experience! -, and it distracted him from the present confusion. He had to do it without earphones, though, to really feel surrounded by it, so, on some nights the air around the shack was filled with the sound of Ravel’s “Bolero” or Smetana’s “Die Moldau” (Richard found it hard to pronounce the original title - ‘Vltava’ – so he stuck to the German version – reluctantly, though) –on other nights, it was “Invisible” by Alison Moyet or “Gold” by Spandau Ballet. It was a good thing that he lived in such an isolated house. He wouldn’t have liked to be arrested for nocturnal disturbance… 

He knew he was behaving like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it, and it was better than making a fool of himself during the daytime when Camille was around. He’d get over it. It wouldn’t last forever. He was definitely not in love – silly idea, anyway! And even if he was – it wouldn’t change a thing as nobody in their right mind would fall for him… let alone Camille.

No matter how seductive her voice had sounded when she said “You have me now,” during that memorable night they had spent in the weather station a while ago… what on earth was that supposed to mean, anyway, and if it had meant what he thought - hoped – feared? – how could he make a move without coming across as completely ridiculous? 

If he was honest with himself, he had longed to hold her that night (there had been something almost romantic about being stuck together in this lab, with the wind howling outside and the rain pelting on the roof… it had been like being in a bubble, out of time and out of the usual social constraints!) – a very atypical sentiment for him, normally the thought of invading other people’s space (as he called it) rather put him off… - but no, who’d know where that would have led them. And he hadn’t known her so well then, they had hardly had real conversations at that point – now he knew her a little better, but that didn’t make it necessarily easier… Whatever. He was her boss, after all – and there were other obstacles…

He had little experience with women, and he feared making a fool of himself. Camille might think he’d become completely insane if he changed his behaviour towards her. And who knew if he had really understood the signs correctly – it wouldn’t be the first time that he’d got it all wrong. He didn’t even want to think about what the consequences would be. In short, it could end in disaster. She’d think he’d gone crazy, perhaps she’d feel harassed… It would be mortifying and make working together extremely difficult… and everything else, too. No, no - it was best to keep quiet. Better play it safe.

But his nights were sometimes very restless – and he couldn’t find a way out of this conundrum.

Finally, the end of the week arrived, and on Friday, the Commissioner showed up at the station. With his quiet, yet sonorous voice he invited everyone to come round for drinks in the evening – at La Kaz – where they’d celebrate the arrival of his wife’s nephew Marcus and his friends. “I’m sure Camille has already told you about this,” he remarked, apparently not noticing how Dwayne and Fidel were rolling their eyes and Richard was taking a keen interest in the floor right in front of his feet and its cleanliness. “I think 7 o’clock would be a good time, then you all have the chance to go home and relax a little beforehand.” 

Richard thought that this would be much needed and pondered whether he could perhaps just hide in his shack and pretend he had a sudden bout of the dengue fever. “Oh, and Sergeant Best, please bring your charming wife and your sweet daughter. You know how much my wife loves to play with little Rosie!” Fidel had no chance of finding an excuse, so he stammered helplessly “Ah, yes, sure, I will, Sir.”

Camille literally jumped up and down with joy – she couldn’t wait. She stopped short, however, when she heard about the “friends” that Marcus had brought along. Selwyn Patterson just smiled when she asked for more details and said “You’ll all meet them, Camille. I’m sure you’ll make them feel welcome and get along famously with them.”

So, at 7 they all gathered at the bar. Fidel brought Rosie and Juliet – who was wearing a lovely peach coloured dress and looked really pretty. She enjoyed going out every once in a while and liked to dress up a little on occasions like that – she didn’t have too many chances to get out of the house, and although she tried to be pretty for Fidel, she felt that she spent too much time in jogging pants and threadbare T-shirts. Neither the young officer nor Juliet knew Marcus personally, they had never met him. While Juliet was curious, Fidel wasn’t really interested – he was all for meeting new people and having fun, but in this particular instance, he would have preferred to spend a quiet evening at home with the family. But of course, when the Commissioner called, people had to jump to their feet and follow. 

Dwayne had changed into a rather neutral outfit for his standards – beige trousers and a light blue shirt with some sort of dark lizard print on the back. It still wasn’t what Richard would have called “subtle”, but he had given up on Dwayne’s taste long ago. And, to be fair, it suited the older officer – his unusual clothes had obviously become his trademark, and although Richard wouldn’t have wanted to be caught dead or alive in any of Dwayne’s outfits, he had to admit that he always looked well-groomed and dapper – and he liked that about him. Richard had little respect for people who didn’t take care of themselves. - Dwayne had dim memories of Marcus, but due to the age difference, he hadn’t known him well at all – he doubted he’d recognise the younger man in the street. That wouldn’t keep him from being friendly with him, but he wasn’t really bouncing off the walls with excitement.

Camille was the one who was most exhilarated of them all. She fidgeted around with the frilly seams of her turquoise top. Her bright yellow capris were a striking contrast to this. Richard – who had decided to let go of his official looking suit and changed into something less formal (as he sometimes did these days after work, much to everyone’s delight as – surprise, surprise! - he usually was in a much more pleasant mood when he wore lighter clothes!) – today’s choice was a short sleeved white shirt with freshly ironed dark blue chinos - observed the little congregation sitting around the wooden tables in the bar. 

There was also Catherine – sporting a colourful new dress and dangly earrings - who was just as pleased as her daughter and couldn’t wait to see Marcus again. Richard suspected that Catherine was already busy making plans and scheming to match up her daughter with this promising young man. An orthopaedist, that sounded marvellous, didn’t it! And a dear childhood friend – they’d have fond memories of each other, for sure… Richard pulled a face as this thought came up in his mind. Fortunately nobody was looking at him – so this slip went unheeded.

Then the Commissioner’s car arrived, and a bunch of people flooded into the bar – the Commissioner and his wife were the only familiar ones among them. The other three persons were a young woman and two younger men. Camille literally flew to the taller one of them, hugged him tight and exclaimed “Oh Marcus – how good to see you again!” He laughed heartily, swept her off her feet and swirled her around. “Camille, sweetheart – you haven’t changed one bit! How won-der-ful to see you!” That was only the beginning of a lively “welcome back” exchange between him and Camille - Selwyn Patterson smiled and waited patiently until the little scene finished and the two became aware of their surroundings again. Then introductions were made, and everyone shook hands, said nice things and made small talk.

Obviously, the man whom Camille had welcomed so warmly was Marcus. Richard’s worst nightmares turned out to be reality when he saw him – Marcus was indeed tall and handsome, and he had a happy smile and friendly brown eyes. Richard actually had the feeling that he’d probably end up liking Marcus – he was reluctant to admit it, but he really seemed rather likeable. He came up to the team, smiling broadly, and said a friendly “Nice to meet you, Richard – I have heard a lot about you already,” and he laughed when Richard replied drily “Oh dear. That does not bode well… However, I’ll just hope for the best and assume it’s been mostly good things so far, as unlikely as that might be!” 

Mrs Patterson chided him amiably “Oh, Inspector, you know that my husband would never let you go, and we all love having you here with us – don’t belittle yourself!” Richard smiled politely, but kept his not so favourable thoughts to himself. He knew very well why the Commissioner didn’t want to let him go and had tricked him into staying in the first place – the crime solving rate had skyrocketed since Richard’s arrival, and Selwyn Patterson loved to show that off among his peers. Tourists came to the island literally in flocks now because it had the reputation of being safe, and all that fell back on the Commissioner. 

The other man – introduced as David Neville, Marcus’s friend and prospective business partner – wasn’t quite as tall as Marcus, but still taller than Richard, had light brown hair and blue grey eyes, and his accent gave him away as American, New England or – more generally - East Coast, Richard assumed. He also made a couple of friendly remarks and declared that Saint Marie was the most beautiful place he had ever been to. 

He made everyone laugh with how he pointed out that he had absolutely nothing to do with the designer or the athlete of the same name – and obviously not with the late ice hockey player, either. “You wouldn’t believe how often I get asked if I am related to one of these people,” he remarked. “It can get pretty embarrassing sometimes! Once a patient asked me how I had managed the switch from running and sprinting to becoming a doctor. She has obviously never seen that other David Neville, or she wouldn’t have asked… not to mention that he’s quite a few years younger than myself. I made an evasive reply, and we both chose to forget that question in the end… I assume someone enlightened her on the matter.”

“And this is Sandra Neville,” said the Commissioner, introducing the young woman who had so far stood behind him. As she had mostly been talking quietly to the Commissioner’s wife, she had remained in the background until the focus was suddenly put on her and she came forward.

Sandra Neville was petite and delicate looking, but Richard noticed that her grip was firm as she shook his hand. She had long, wavy honey-blond hair that was held back by a hairband, and dark blue eyes. Richard had never seen eyes like that before – they weren’t the usual watery blue that was so common, but darker, more like sapphires. Her skin was almost golden – there was a certain hue about it that made her appear somewhat ethereal. He was captivated by her shy but friendly smile. Much to his surprise, he found himself smiling back at her as he said politely “Hello, Mrs Neville, nice to meet you! – As you may already have gathered, I’m Richard Poole, Detective Inspector at the police station here, and I work with Camille and the others here.” 

There was some shuffling around, and they all sat down, had drinks and “tested the waters” by exchanging friendly remarks and chit-chat. Marcus and Camille obviously were busy rekindling old memories and talking about people and events from “back then” before they filled each other in on how life had gone in the meantime since they last met. Their laughter filled the air. The Commissioner asked Fidel about his plans for the future while his wife chatted away with Juliet and played with Rosie. Dwayne helped Catherine getting the drinks and gave Marcus a friendly punch in the shoulder as he brought him his beer. Soon, he, Marcus and Camille exchanged amicable banter and joked around. 

David turned to Richard and asked him how long he had been staying on Saint Marie. “It’s been a little over two years,” he responded. “What, and your skin is still so fair?” David wondered. “I’m very cautious and use sunblock regularly,” Richard explained. “I have very sensitive skin, you know, so I really have to be careful.” 

Sandra said softly “Oh, I know what you mean. I have brought a cartload of sunscreen with me as well. I don’t burn so easily, but my tan never gets all that deep, either. In any event, it’s better to be safe than sorry, isn’t it? David, for that matter - I hope Erin stocked up on sunscreen before she left for Antigua last week.” Turning to Richard, she explained “Erin is my brother’s wife, you know. She’s currently on a job assignment on Antigua – she’s a journalist, specialising in tourism, travel and lifestyle.” 

Her voice was very cultivated – and unusually deep for a tiny person like her. Her accent was crisp and clear. There was not the slightest sign of coquettishness in her demeanor and voice. She just spoke matter-of-factly, without any kind of ‘attitude’ whatsoever. Richard found that very refreshing – while Sandra Neville was exceptionally beautiful, she didn’t make a fuss about it, and it was a relief to have a conversation with a pretty woman who was not provocative and obviously didn’t expect everyone to worship the ground she walked on just because she was attractive. He could be fairly tongue-tied among women, so he appreciated her lack of affectation. She wasn’t insipid, but frank and sincere. That made it a lot easier for him.

It took him a moment to digest that she was not actually married to David Neville – as he (and the others as well, as he noticed from their reactions, as far as they had listened) had assumed somewhat automatically, given the fact that they had the same surname. Sandra was obviously David’s sister – and David’s wife was on another island in the Caribbean. 

He was trying to sort out the tangle of relationships, but before he could make any further efforts and come to deductions, Sandra – realising that she had just presumed he’d be ‘in the know’ - continued “Oh, I’m sorry - I think I somewhat took for granted that you knew what this is all about! That’s just because everyone has been talking about it forever, and I kind of assumed automatically that everyone knows. Let me explain – Marcus and David went to medical school together and both are orthopaedists. You might know that Marcus worked in a hospital, however, David shared a private practice with another friend in Boston. That friend has decided to move to another state now, though, and as David was on the look-out for a new challenge, they agreed to sell the practice. David somehow convinced Marcus to become his business partner – I have no idea how he did that. After all, he had a regular income there. But I suspect it has to do with the fact that Marcus wasn’t particularly happy at the hospital. Too much office politics and self-important people, if you know what I mean.” 

She smiled and took a sip of her drink. “Erin – my sister-in-law – wants to take a sabbatical once the job on Antigua is over and done with, and she suggested moving to the Caribbean as she likes the climate… She hopes something else will come up in the meantime, but I guess that remains to be seen. Anyway. I’m a physiotherapist, and Marcus and David asked me if I could imagine sharing a practice with them over here. You know, I have been working ungodly hours in a small hospital practice, and on the day they were asking me I had just had an awful row with my boss – who’s a dragon! – about the therapy that one of our patients was supposed to undergo… and I thought it was rubbish… Well, to cut a long story short, I said yes… So, here we are!”

“Ah – thanks for filling me in on that, Mrs Neville,” Richard said, grateful that someone took the time to explain so he didn’t have to speculate. He decided to stick to the more formal way of addressing her for the moment – correct manners were important to him, and he didn’t want to come across as trying to be ‘too familiar’.

“Sandy, please,” she replied with a smile. “I feel like my grandmother when someone calls me ‘Mrs Neville’.” “Well, then… it’s Richard for you, Sandy,” he said warmly – for his standards. It still sounded a little stiff, but he did his best. She smiled and said candidly “Oh, that’s so much better than ‘Inspector Poole’, I think! That’s quite a mouthful, isn’t it?” Her smile was genuine.

Camille – who was idly watching the two of them as she was half listening to David – expected Richard to get flustered, but much to her surprise, he smiled back openly and continued to chat with Sandy Neville. Now, that was new… usually he got rather confused around women. But then again, that wasn’t quite true. He had always been pretty good when it came to small talk – a talent that the English seemed to have, even the socially inept ones. Admittedly, he got confused around women who walked around half naked in their bikinis, swimsuits or tops with low necklines, but around decently clothed women he usually was better. Still a little awkward sometimes, though. Camille had never seen him so comfortable around a woman within such short time. He had certainly been anything but comfortable with her at first… Anyway. His behaviour was remarkable, and she couldn’t help but wonder what was happening there. 

Marcus was watching Richard and Sandy, too. He remarked to Camille that he was glad that Sandy apparently felt comfortable in their group – according to him, she was rather reserved and took a while to warm to new acquaintances. “I was a little concerned she’d feel lost. But come to think of it, I shouldn’t have worried. She’s good with people, she really is – you have to be, in that job, I mean. But that’s her professional side. In ‘real life’, she can be rather withdrawn and a little… lost in her own thoughts, if you know what I mean. I guess you could call her an introvert. She doesn’t mean to be enigmatic, she is just reserved. ‘Private’, I think, describes her well. But once she knows you, she’s very friendly and open.” He sounded almost protective. Camille took a sideways glance at him – that was a side of her friend that she hadn’t known so far. Interesting…

He then explained to her how they had all ended up in the Caribbean together, and David went on a long-winded story about how he missed his wife and how it would be nice to finally be together again when her job on Antigua was finished. Camille then asked them about their time at medical school together, and it didn’t take long before they were entertaining the rest of the party with stories about the pranks they played and the wonderful times they had.

As Richard had heard stories of a similar nature from Camille over the past week, he couldn’t help but be only mildly interested in the whole thing. He listened politely, though, surreptitiously checking his watch from time to time and wishing he could finally go home and enjoy some peace and quiet. Everyone was looking at Marcus and David as they were telling their tales, so nobody noticed him glancing at his watch… Ah well. This was going to drag on for a little longer… 

He noted that his glass was empty, so he turned towards Sandy Neville to ask if she wanted another drink as well. She didn’t notice that he was looking at her, and so he got an unguarded glimpse at her face as she was watching Marcus interacting with David and – more important - Camille. Richard was taken aback by her expression. The look of hopelessness based on unrequited love and the pain of longing for someone who was out of reach was written all over her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David Neville (born June 1, 1984) is an American sprinter who specializes in the 400 meters distance. You might want to check him out on the net.


	3. A Garden Party

It was Tuesday evening – and the first two days of the work week hadn’t been overly eventful. It had mostly been file work, and the team was rather bored – particularly since the last week had already been rather slow, too. That wasn’t great for moral and motivation, but well, every once in a while there’d be a lull like that, and one had to cope with the stress that could come out of boredom just as well as with the stress that could result of too much work. At least there were no quibbles among the team – they all got on well. Richard had experienced situations where people had a go at their colleagues out of boredom – he was relieved that this wasn’t the case in Honoré. 

Maybe an interesting case would come up over the next few days – something a little bit more exciting than theft on the market, driving under the influence of illegal substances, and harbour patrols.

Richard sat on the veranda of his shack, alone, with a bottle of beer in his hand, and thought about the past weekend. He recalled how he had noticed that particular longing look on Sandy Neville’s face… it had made him sad and concerned. Not for himself – of course, he had been impressed by her beauty, her sophisticated air and her natural friendliness, but in spite of all that… he had to admit it, at least to himself - it was Camille who was on his mind and in his heart, only Camille… there was no space for any other woman, at least not in that particular respect. He had understood this much by now. It didn’t make him happy, but it was the truth.

No, the look on Sandy’s face made him sad for her. He knew about the tortures of unrequited love, the longing and the yearning – and the fear of losing the friendship that brought along all sorts of strategies to hide one’s real feelings. Those strategies could make you lonely in a very specific way as you were hiding a part of yourself. You learnt to live with it, but really, she had deserved better than that. He hoped she’d get over it one way or another. Although he hadn’t known her for very long yet, he liked her, and he felt a wave of what Camille called his ‘protective instinct’ washing over him. 

Camille had sometimes teased him in the past that he was too keen on helping the “damsel in distress”… well, he might have a soft spot for that particular scenario, that was true. After all, that was pretty much his only chance to pull off the ‘knight in shining armour’ number. He admitted to himself with a crooked smile that he liked being the hero every once in a while. It was a nice change from the sameness of his usual life. He was well aware of how it boosted his ego. True – it didn’t really have any place in his professional surroundings… though the temptation was there every once in a while. For a moment he wondered if he’d ever have a chance to be Camille’s hero – but upon further reflection he realised that this was a very unlikely scenario. She didn’t need his protection… 

Whatever, this wasn’t one of his professional cases, so he was free to do whatever he liked to help. He had decided to give her support – as far as that was possible without making a complete idiot of himself - and not add to her suffering. She shouldn’t feel as left out as he sometimes did. The least he could do was trying to make her feel welcome and distract her from her pain by sticking around and keeping her company. He didn’t dig deeper in regard to his other motives… had he been honest with himself, he would have admitted that he was also curious about Marcus and how Camille would react to his presence in the long run. He had a feeling that he might not like watching them interact, and he was afraid that his worst nightmares would come true and she’d lose what little interest she had in him, but he preferred knowing and seeing things first hand. 

So, although it disturbed his usual routines, he had participated in the weekend activities that Camille, Marcus and the Pattersons had planned and asked him to join. His pile of laundry might not get done, but well, he could always deal with that later. Unfortunately, laundry didn’t run away, like time and opportunities did… 

Marcus was clearly smitten with Camille, and Camille was excited to have her old friend back. They talked about this and that, laughed about their teenage times and the adventures of those years, reminisced about all sorts of things, shared meaningful glances… and it was indeed very easy to feel left out. David didn’t seem to mind so much – he liked Marcus, and he liked Camille, and the three of them had a ball together. He was clearly amused by their smooth and candid interaction. Sometimes they quarrelled in a friendly way, but it never got nasty. Sandy made the best of it all – she participated in the banter when she could and never showed any sign of being sad or feeling neglected. She had class, that much was sure. Still, Richard felt that certain air of hopeless melancholy hovering over her, and he tried to be helpful and make her feel more at ease. He was familiar with the feeling of being the ‘outsider’, and he wished it on nobody else.

When they had come together in the Commissioner’s garden on Sunday, Richard had sat next to Sandy and tried to engage her in a conversation as the others played a card game at the far end of the lawn. He wasn’t keen on card games – most of them were too quick for him, and he couldn’t develop a clear strategy in the little time there was. As he hadn’t wanted to sit around watching them and wishing he was more quick-witted and intuitive, he had brought Sandy a glass of lemonade, and she had thanked him and said languidly “Oh, how English! I feel like one of those ladies lounging in a lush landscaped garden in India or Kenya or wherever the British had their colonies!” She had asked him to sit down with her, and they had got into a conversation about history, different traditions and language traps – as Richard had pointed out, there was truth in what George Bernard Shaw had said – that “the English and the Americans were two peoples divided by a common language”.

They had laughed, and Camille had looked up from her cards. Richard had noticed from the corner of his eye that she had furrowed her brow curiously and apparently felt slightly irritated, but before she could have said anything, Mrs Patterson had called them to come inside and have some food. That call had even made the Commissioner appear who had been hiding in his study for the better part of the afternoon. Richard suspected that he had just wanted to escape the fuss that his wife was making over Marcus and his friends – but of course, he’d come sneaking out of his hideaway once food was on the table…

At the little buffet that had been built up, they all had mingled a bit more, and Marcus had asked Richard about how he had adjusted to island life. He had said smilingly “Camille and my uncle have told me that you had some difficulties getting used to the climate and the general living conditions here in the Caribbean.” Richard had pulled a face. “Well, I think Camille has already given you a vivid picture of my sufferings here, so I suppose I’ll spare you the gory details about blood sucking insects and green lizards in the house. Suffice it to say that much to my surprise I have – er - got used to it in the meantime, and since I discovered a particular brand of insect repellent, it’s become much, much better. And the lizard has accepted me as his house pet, so all is good now!” They had all laughed, and Sandy had joked that she was pleased for him that he didn’t get eaten alive any more by the mosquitoes. 

The Commissioner’s wife had then begun to sing the famous song about “le moustique” – “No me moleste mosquito, no me moleste mosquito, no me moleste mosquito, retourne chez toi…” – and everyone had joined in and sung along. Judging from the look on her face, Camille had expected Richard to cringe – after all, she knew that his coworkers in Croydon had made him fairly miserable with joking at his expense. But she needn’t have worried – Richard hadn’t shown any serious signs of discomfort, although his smile had been a little stiff. He had never liked being the centre of attention – unless it was because of his professional skills (he was almost a little vain in that respect…) – but he had learnt that the people around here didn’t mean any harm – unlike the Croydon gang.

Sandy had asked about the origin of the song and who had sung it, and the Commissioner’s wife had gone to dig out an old CD with Joe Dassin’s greatest hits. “Oh, Joe Dassin – I should have known!” Sandy had exclaimed. Camille had been surprised that someone who wasn’t French was familiar with the singer at all, but it had turned out that Sandy had listened to a lot of foreign music as a teenager. And of course, Joe Dassin had also released records in the United States, so it wasn’t all that unlikely that people had listened to his music there as well.

To add to Camille’s confusion, Richard had recognised some of the songs on the CD – well, he had been familiar with the titles. Camille had teased him “Since when have you been interested in pop culture, Richard!” He had countered “Ah, Camille – just because I have no clue who – erm - Beyoncé or some other currently hip singer is, that doesn’t mean I’m completely unfamiliar with modern music! You just never asked the right questions!” He had felt a little smug, to be honest. Validated, somehow… it was stupid, but it felt good not to be the outsider for a change.

Apparently, it hadn’t gone down too well with Camille that Sandy and Richard had become engaged in a long conversation about music in general and specifically the hits of the 70s and 80s, Richard realised in hindsight. She clearly had been a little miffed with this situation, as he had concluded from her somewhat annoyed behaviour towards him. Of course, he had never had any reason to mention that he had listened an awful lot to the radio back then, and in later years, when he had already been working for the police, he had taken his mother to the cinema, concerts or shows regularly several times a year. His father was not into “that sort of rubbish”, so he had been pleased that he didn’t have to tag along, and while Richard wasn’t keen on a lot of it, either, he had wanted to please his mother who didn’t have much of a chance to get out of the house, anyway. 

So, he had sat through an abundance of shows, films and concerts – more than half of them were baloney, far-fetched, fanciful or plain silly, but it had all been worth it – Mum had been happy, and they had had a topic to discuss… a welcome change from the usual “so what have you been up to lately” or “why don’t you join a club or something so you don’t have to run on your own”. And, truth be told, while most shows had been utterly stupid, at least some of them actually had also been rather enjoyable – and even if the so-called plot had been rubbish, the music sometimes had turned out to be pretty good. Richard had refrained from his usual habit of dissecting everything until nothing was left and learnt to just sit back and enjoy the ride, as they say!

David then had addressed Camille and asked about golf courses, hiking trails and tourist sights, and they had sauntered off to discuss that subject. Apparently, they had decided to go on a hike together some time. Ah well… No doubt he’d find out about that sooner or later. Possibly the volcano would be their number one choice… well, Richard knew for sure that he wouldn’t come along if they decided to go for that trail. He had done that particular hike once, and it had been enough to last him a lifetime. 

He wasn’t used to that kind of physical activity any more, and he wasn’t keen on being the tail ender of the group – they all were younger than himself and in better shape, and he’d hate to be the one huffing and puffing and trying to keep up with them… or worse yet, be the one they’d take pity on and slow down for. Morosely, he looked at his legs – he was only of average build, and his stride wasn’t as impressive as… say, Marcus’s. Marcus was tall and had long legs. Richard was considerably shorter, and he knew he would have a hard time keeping up with Marcus. 

Back in the UK, he was used to going for walks and hikes – by himself, usually. He had always liked to visit the sites that the National Trust maintained. Sometimes he had caught a train to some place over the weekend and gone for a good extensive hike – to get the cobwebs out of his head. Usually, he had booked accommodation in advance, if necessary – so he wouldn’t end up having to sleep in the woods. He had also visited the Lake District several times and taken hiking holidays there on his own. 

So it was not that he didn’t like the activity – he just was a little out of shape and didn’t function so well in the climate here in the Caribbean, and by the end of that volcano hike he had been completely done in. It wasn’t only the climate – the creatures that were creeping and crawling around also made him jump. He couldn’t work out which of them were harmless and which of them had to be taken seriously, so they all made him nervous.

Fortunately, he had gone on a Saturday – so he could spend the Sunday resting. He couldn’t remember if he had ever fallen into such a comatose sleep before – he had been totally exhausted. And boy, had he been sore! His poor old legs… By Monday he fortunately had had recovered – more or less, at least. He hadn’t wanted anybody to know how he had overstrained himself with this hike… 

He hadn’t wanted to hire a guide who’d most likely blather all the way so he couldn’t take in the scenery around him, so he had got himself a map and gone alone – only later he had realised that he had taken a bit of a risk with that. If he had had an accident, he would have been helpless – understanding this had scared him, so he just had thanked fate that nothing had happened and decided not to go for extensive hikes on his own any more in the future, but to stick to more gentle walks and activities that he could do without risking too much. 

He would have liked to take up running again as he felt a bit out of shape, but with the climate being what it was, that was out of the question. And swimming – well, he could just imagine all the creepy fishy creatures in the water, and of course the infamous sea urchins – he had made acquaintance with one of those already during his first year on Saint Marie, and he didn’t want to repeat that. Not to mention that he’d look ridiculous and burn in no time… And other watersports – well, he wasn’t a surferboy, that much was sure! The lack of physical activity made him even more restless, but so far he couldn’t see any way out of it. He would have to think about that some other time…

A sound interrupted his musings. He heard a car approaching, and before he knew it, the Defender came around the corner and stopped on the beach right near his shack. Camille climbed out and approached the veranda. As she came up to him, she smiled and said “Hi – you forgot this on your desk!” 

She held up a book about the Lesser Antilles that he had bought at the market during his lunch break. “Ah. Thank you.” He took the book from her - their hands touched, and he felt an electric shock tingling at his fingertips. Had she felt it, too? He almost dropped the book, but pulled himself together. He was pleased that she had come. He had been a little afraid that now that her handsome and dazzling friend Marcus and his gang were there, she wouldn’t show up at his place any more. It was nice to see that he had been mistaken.

“Want a beer?” he asked. “Actually, water would be nice, if you have any?” she responded. “I have the feeling that I’ve had too much alcohol over the weekend – well, at least more than is good for me,” she explained. He laughed and fetched her a bottle of water. She sat down on the steps of the shack and he returned to his chair. “Ah, it’s nice and quiet here! Too much noise over the weekend, though it’s been fun, altogether,” she added. “You enjoyed it, too, didn’t you?” 

He wasn’t quite sure what she was angling for, but he felt that it had to do with the group of friends around Marcus. “Hm… yes, I did,” he admitted cautiously. “I’ve never seen you so relaxed and comfortable with people before,” she went on, pensively. Ah – that was the way the wind was blowing… 

He couldn’t recall saying or doing anything out of line, but it had apparently struck her that he managed to get on with other people, too. Well, that served her right – she might as well see that not everyone thought he was stuffy and boring.

“I thought it’s you who keeps telling me to loosen up?” he said a little stiffly. She looked down on the half-empty bottle in her hands. “I guess you’re right,” she admitted. Her voice was thoughtful, and her eyes were cast down. Then, she lightened up a little and said “It’s just that I’m not used to you taking my advice… but I have to say that… well, it’s nice to see you smile more often.” She turned her face to him, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw her smiling at him radiantly. 

Oblivious to the effect she had on him, she continued “We’ve made a couple of tentative plans for the week, and I hope you’ll join us for some of the activities... But Marcus and David also need to do some exploring – you know they are looking for possible places for their practice, so they have a couple of appointments with real estate agents lined up. Sandy might tag along, after all, she’s supposed to become their partner as well, so they’ll be busy, but I reckon we’ll get together in the evenings when there’s time.” 

“Hmmm,” he remarked. He wasn’t quite sure what would be next, so he waited. Silence. Something was bugging her. She wasn’t usually so tongue-tied. So he tried another approach. “So, what do you think, will Marcus and David stay here on Saint Marie?” he asked. As far as he was concerned, they could take a running jump and disappear. As much as he’d like to have a good orthopaedic and physio practice on Saint Marie (his back gave him pain sometimes), he didn’t care much for having Marcus on the island. It wasn’t that he was a nasty bugger – really, it was hard not to like him (and Richard liked him… in a way… but he knew he’d like him even more if he didn’t stick around!) - it was just that he was… well, Camille’s childhood friend and all that… Richard didn’t really want to think too much about why he hoped they’d prefer moving to another island.

She looked up again. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I imagine it depends on a variety of circumstances. Also on Erin. I mean, if she doesn’t like it here, they won’t stay. I think we’ll find out soon – she’s hoping to come over for a weekend, from what I’ve heard.” 

They sat in silence for a while, each of them lost in their respective thoughts. Camille finished her water, then she got up and gave him the empty bottle. “Thank you, Richard” she said, leant over to kiss him quickly on the cheek – and before he knew it she had jumped into the Defender and zoomed off again. He blinked – he was a little staggered about her behaviour, but happy that she had come this evening… So she still cared for him, even though her special friend had turned up and brought so much excitement and fun. And she had just kissed him. Whatever that meant. A smile grew on his face. Of course, it had been casual, and she had caught him off guard – but obviously, she didn’t think he was so outlandish any more.

He still smiled like an idiot when he got up to get ready for bed – her visit would give him something nice to think about before falling asleep. He liked to draw a line under the occurrences and experiences of a day when he went to bed, and it was always nice to end a day on a good note. 

Fortunately, he had been sleeping a bit better during the past nights – he assumed that most likely it was from sheer exhaustion. The weekend had been tiring, and he wasn’t getting any younger. He groaned and stretched as he stood in the bathroom, but he was still grinning. “Good grief, Poole,” he thought “You’re clearly getting mushy-brained these days…” But even chiding himself didn’t stop him, and he fell asleep with a broad smile on his face.

Camille, however, came home in a slightly confused and somewhat restless state of mind. Richard had been a lot more relaxed and open this weekend than she had ever seen him before. She had sensed that he hadn’t been so excited about Marcus’s arrival, and she now realised that it had been partly because she had gone on and on about their teenager adventures. 

As she had listened to some of the stories from medical school that David and Marcus had come up with, she had realised how boring it must have been for Richard and the boys to listen to her ramblings – after half an hour of the same sort of stories, it had become a little old, and her interest and enthusiasm had dwindled. But then – she had been so happy about the prospect of seeing Marcus again after all those years – surely Richard could forgive her for being over-excited? She didn’t care if the boys forgave her – they didn’t count there… she didn’t ask herself why, though.

She had been perplexed at how Richard had made friendly conversation with everyone – particularly with Sandy Neville. He had clearly made an effort. Well, given her appearance, that probably hadn’t been a sacrifice, she thought a little grimly… Needless to say, it hadn’t escaped her how beautiful this woman was. Nobody who had eyes to see could miss that she was a real beauty. She had the most wonderful hair that Camille had ever seen – thick and shiny, and it had the colour of dark honey. Not to mention her delicate figure, the golden skin, her amazing eyes and the remarkable voice. She looked like she had stepped out of a painting of fairyland. 

Usually, pretty women rather scared Richard, unless they were dead – he wasn’t scared by corpses – but Sandy apparently was an exception. He had taken to her very quickly, and obviously they had a lot to talk about. It went beyond simple admiration – or ogling, for that matter. In fact, he hadn’t ogled her… he had talked to her! From what Camille had overheard, Richard had even been speaking coherently most of the time. Not his usual “you know” or “erm” or “uh” – at least not to the same extent as usual. But then he had generally become better with that over the past few months. Camille suspected it had to do with him feeling a little more settled. 

Sandy certainly was very sophisticated. Camille almost felt mousy and run-off-the-mill next to her – a rather uncommon and sobering sentiment for her. And she felt small and a little ashamed when she thought about how she had laughed at Richard for not being familiar with the latest trends in music and all that – who could have known that he was a walking encyclopaedia of music of the 70s and 80s – as well as classical music? 

Sandy and Camille had talked a little during the get-together at the Commissioner’s house as they were sitting next to each other – Marcus and David had gone off to fetch something from the garden shed while Richard had made polite conversation with Mrs Patterson – mostly that meant that he let her talk and inserted an “oh, really” or “hmmm” in the (very) occasional gaps – and Camille had been taken aback by how Sandy had praised Richard’s knowledge of certain bands and singers, how he could quote lines from musicals and all that. She had never seen this side of him.

And the most embarrassing part about this all had been that Sandy had seemed to assume that Camille knew exactly what she was talking about – when she really had no clue… or at least only a very vague idea in most cases. She had felt like the proverbial country bumpkin. So, she had made a couple of vague general remarks and tried to steer the conversation into more familiar territory again. 

At work, Richard had been in a very good mood. Yesterday had been a rather slow day, but he had done all the file work without complaining, and not even the fact that the fan didn’t work properly had set him off in a rant, and today hadn’t been much better, either, and still he had been balanced and hadn’t freaked out over anything. Camille had been puzzled about this serenity – until the unwelcome suspicion had crept up that Richard might be on the verge of falling in love with Sandy Neville. That had made her feel very uneasy. She had tried to shake off the thought, but it didn’t work. 

So, she just had to drive to his house in the evening, with the book that he had forgotten at the office so she had a pretext, almost in an attempt to make him reassure her that they were still friends and he would always be there for her. He hadn’t been any different to her, compared to last week. But although that should be a good sign, she remained restless. She sighed. She didn’t want this friendship to change. He had become too important to her. She wondered if he had also felt the electric shock when their hands had touched as she had given him the book. It had felt weird – but not in a bad way… no, not at all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joe Dassin was an American born French singer-songwriter. He was mostly popular in France and continental Europe in general (he recorded his songs in various other languages as well). He died of a heart attack at the age of 41 (in 1980) and is buried in California. “Le Moustique” was released in 1972.


	4. Observations

Two weeks went by, and while things at work picked up a little again, they didn’t get so busy and hectic that there hadn’t been any chance to spend the evenings together with Marcus and his friends. Some kind of routine had developed – there was work, and in the evenings, after work, they got together at La Kaz. 

Fidel usually just stayed for a drink and then left as he wanted to spend time with Juliet and Rosie after a long workday, and Dwayne often went off to talk to his friends in between sitting with the group around Marcus. Sometimes he disappeared – he had decided he had a life, and while he liked Marcus and the Nevilles, he had other friends and activities as well that he wanted to tend to. And of course, one of them was on call for the night, so whoever that was usually wasn’t keen on sitting in the bar all the time – particularly since they couldn’t (or at least shouldn’t) drink alcohol while they were on duty. 

Camille helped Marcus and David with background info on the objects they were looking at – she gave them additional info about the neighbourhood, told them a little about the owners and discussed with them about how far a private practice could be successful in that particular area. 

Richard sometimes excused himself as he didn’t feel he could take so much socialising – he needed downtime to recover. If he was honest with himself, he mostly went to La Kaz after work these days to see Camille – and please her by showing some interest in her friends. He liked David, but didn’t have much in common with him, and Marcus… well, he preferred not to reveal too much about himself to Camille’s friend, so their chats remained superficial. The conversations with Sandy Neville were stimulating, though, and he genuinely liked her - but he wouldn’t have gone to the bar that often if it had only been for her… He had never been much of a people person, and although he quite enjoyed spending time with his team and / or the group around Marcus, he also cherished his quiet evenings at home – with his tea, Lucy and Harry, a good book, the sound of the surf… and occasionally some music. 

He missed having Camille around, but alas – he could understand she wanted to spend time with her friend, and there were indeed quite a few things she could help him, David and Sandy with, so it was natural that they stuck together – and that she didn’t have time to come out to the beach and sit on his veranda. Still, it stung a little…

Camille had teased him a couple of times that he couldn’t wait to get back to his “monastic cell”, and one day she inevitably caught him on the wrong foot – initially, he had only been irritated because the milk in his fridge had gone off, but the entire day had been going wrong from the moment on he had realised that his precious tea had been spoilt – so when she didn’t stop winding him up, he blew up at her, and before they knew it, they were involved in one of their shouting matches, right there on the patio of La Kaz.

“And I’m NOT grumpy, Camille, I just need some peace and quiet for a change,” he shouted. “Some people just can’t be around others constantly!” 

“Ah, are we annoying you with our cheerfulness? So then, go to your lonely old shack and sulk – fine with me… I won’t miss you!”

“Then why are you complaining? I’m just saying… ah, forget it! Whatever I say, you’ll just hit me over the head with one of your silly and completely nonsensical comebacks. You always have the last word, anyway!” 

He stomped off, muttering something about her being ever so French again, and Camille shouted after him “That’s because I’m right, and you just run out of things to say!” She shoved a hand into her hair – a clear sign of her frustration. 

Then she turned on her heels and went back to where her friends sat. David stared at her, open-mouthed, and said “Wow, what was that?” Marcus just laughed and said “This was Camille in tornado mode, David – you’d better not mess with her when she’s upset like this!” Sandy just smiled amiably and said “Well, I can see why Richard needs a break from us. Just look how boring we all are with our constant talk about the practice and our plans.” 

Camille shot her an irritated sideways glance, but kept quiet. She was fuming – Richard just knew which buttons to push so she’d hit the roof. But when the evening was over and she sat alone in her living room, put up her feet and let the events pass in review, she had to agree with Sandy – reluctantly, but still… she had a point. 

Of course, she had noticed before that it was getting a little stale discussing the same things over and over, but she had promised to help Marcus, and she had to stick to her promise. 

However… It was indeed boring to listen to the same things again and again. It was all about the practice, there were anecdotes about former patients, David and Marcus went down memory lane and talked about professors at medical school… Even Sandy – who had a legitimate interest in the topic to a certain extent – couldn’t help but stifle a yawn every once in a while. 

Camille realised that reconnecting with her old friend was not going as smoothly as she had expected. They had both grown up, and their different living arrangements, environment and experiences had shaped them into – well, adults! They still had a lot in common, and it was nice to revisit old memories… but she admitted to herself that you couldn’t go back in time, and while it was fun to revel a little in the “those were the days” mode, it was also tiring – particularly for others who had not been part of the “old times”. 

On closer reflection, it was understandable that Richard sometimes needed a break. He had a demanding job, the climate made him suffer, and he needed time for himself. Admittedly he had never been a very sociable person, so it was already a step out of his comfort zone that he agreed on coming to La Kaz this often these days. 

She wondered why he did it… and – a little begrudgingly - her thoughts wandered to Sandy Neville.

It was a good thing that he got on so well with her. She had noticed that Sandy pretty much switched off when she and Marcus talked about the past, and in turn her – Camille’s - own eyes began to glaze over when the medical school stories came up. She just got up and ‘looked after the other guests’ then, but Sandy had nowhere to go, so it made things a lot easier when Richard was around. It brought a bit more variety regarding topics of conversation. 

Within the short time that Marcus and his friends had been here, some stories had been repeated several times already, and it was getting a little tedious. David just seemed to be happy with whatever topic was being discussed – Camille thought that was remarkable, but she just didn’t feel the same way. It also began to annoy her a little that everything was always about Marcus and the practice. Hardly ever anyone asked about how her day had been, or how she felt about her line of work. Or her other interests, for that matter. Something that Richard usually took into consideration… he showed a genuine interest in her opinions and listened to her. Well, not always – but mostly.

Camille admitted to herself somewhat unwillingly that she missed talking to Richard on a more private level. It had become such a cherished part of her life to go and see him at his shack once or twice a week, and she had got to know him much better through their conversations there. It wasn’t that he was terribly open or keen on exchanging personal matters – no, really… sometimes they only continued to discuss a case from work, or they talked about world events, he went on a lecture about something connected to astronomy, science or historical contexts, she told him about a book she had picked up – there were many different things under the sun that they covered in their conversations, and Camille liked that. And sometimes they just sat in silence, and that was fine, too. She felt comfortable with him.

It was a good counterbalance to her other activities – she went for runs several times a week (at least once a weekend and once during weekdays, so it was usually at least twice per week), attended a Zumba class one evening, and of course, she helped her mother on several evenings. She loved socialising, but it required constant attention and focus, and it was usually connected to noise. With Richard, it was more quiet, more profound, more substantial. Well, mostly. Unless they got into an argument. But that didn’t happen so often any more, although there still were shouting matches sometimes, and more generally… well, banter and sparks. 

There always had been sparks, but the ones flying now mostly weren’t of anger and mutual provocation any more… She had never expected to find that with him. It confused her a little, but she liked it too much to stay away… She wondered if he ever felt the same way about her. Before Sandy’s arrival, she had felt rather sure of herself, but now… she had doubts.

She could combine the evenings with Marcus and the others with her usual ‘looking after the guests’ at La Kaz, but there wasn’t enough time for seeing Richard privately besides that. That was one of the reasons why she liked seeing him around at the bar… At least he was there… And, yes, she was looking forward to taking up visiting him again when Marcus and the Nevilles were gone. She loved having them here on Saint Marie, so it was not that she was counting the days to their departure, but it would be nice to return to ‘normal’ eventually. 

Granted, she was learning a lot about all sorts of unexpected things during this visit – and many of these discoveries were connected to her own attitude and way to see the world. She felt that some of her views needed reconsidering… 

So, Richard found a little gift bag on his desk on the next morning. Camille watched him from under her lashes as he picked it up and checked what was inside – a tin with assorted teabags of exquisite quality that he had seen in a shop coincidentally and wanted to try a while ago - but he had never got around to doing so. He smiled and looked in her direction. “Thank you,” he said. “But what…” 

Camille interrupted him. “You deserve it,” she said softly. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have blown up and shouted at you.” 

Before Richard could make a reply, Fidel entered the station, and the topic was abandoned. It didn’t come up any more that day, but neither felt the desire to talk about it, anyway – they had made peace again, and that was all that counted. Richard tried one of the teabags during office hours and was clearly delighted. Camille smiled as he held up his mug and gave her a ‘thumbs up’ gesture. They understood each other without further explanations.

*************

As the days went by, David and Marcus were busy driving around on the island to look at places, and often Sandy accompanied them. The more they saw, the harder it became apparently to make a decision. 

Sandy made a few comments on how she could integrate the physiotherapy practice in the rooms, as far as she could see from the layouts and plans they had at this point. Some places turned out to be too small, others were too spacious – and too expensive. She also listed how much staff they’d need and what their qualifications would have to be. It turned out to be a more complex project than everyone had thought initially. 

Camille admired the structure, clarity and definiteness that were characteristic of Sandy’s outlines and drafts – she was very accurate in all the details that the two men tended to neglect so generously. In a way, it seemed to Camille that Sandy was a better business person than Marcus and David as she had a much clearer picture of what maintaining a practice would mean. David called her nitpicky, but Marcus was grateful – he hadn’t thought about some of the aspects that she pointed out. He smiled at her appreciatively and remarked that her efforts were more than welcome. Sandy tried to play it down, but she was clearly pleased with his openly expressed gratitude.

During one of their conversations at La Kaz, Richard learnt that Sandy had originally also planned on attending medical school, but dropped out after one term. “It was just too much for me,” she admitted. “You know, I’m not the overly competitive type, and you have to be ambitious and somewhat career-driven for that sort of thing. It’s a tough workfield, and it takes forever to get finished. So, in the end, I decided to go for a nursing degree, and that was just right for me. Some people tried to make me feel like I had failed, but it was the best decision I’ve ever made for myself. It wasn’t necessarily easier than medical school – it was different! We had more practical training, and I quite liked that. I like helping people so they can feel better, if you know what I mean. It was so good to tend to individuals, and I knew I wanted to continue doing that – no chance for that, though, in the hospital environment. Hospitals are impersonal – like health factories. Or… come to think of it, sickness factories! If you aren’t already seriously ill when you go inside, you’ll surely catch something there… So, after I had obtained my degree, I went on to do more courses and specialise in physiotherapy, and I’ve never regretted it. In what I now call a ‘bout of mental derangement’, I also took courses to become a massage therapist at one point, but had to stop attending those when the stress got too much. So, I have basic knowledge in that, but no real credits.” 

She admitted that she had slipped into the medical field almost automatically. “Our parents both work in that sector, you know, so you kind of grow into it” she explained. “Our dad is a plastic surgeon, and mom is a psychotherapist.” She chuckled when she saw the look on his face. “Yes, I know – very much a stereotype, huh! It’s not always easy with them – one of them is constantly trying to fix you in one way or another. Neither of them can understand why you would choose to live with your flaws and imperfections instead of having them fixed by ‘someone who knows how to do it’. Thanks a lot – I’m happy with my looks, and as far as my mental sanity is concerned – I’d rather jump off a cliff than see a shrink, let alone my psycho mother. I believe that we in the US tend to overdo it with therapy… some things in life you just have to accept, and there’s no therapy that could help you with that! The issues that I have… well, I don’t want them examined and discussed by her, of all people! I love my parents dearly, but I try to stay away from them although I certainly see them for the usual family gatherings that you are expected to attend, like birthdays, Thanksgiving or Christmas. If we move to the Caribbean, life is going to be much easier! I’m afraid they like to see me as a ‘case’, if you know what I mean!”

Catherine – who had just set down a glass of lemonade in front of Sandy, accompanied by a small bowl of crisps – overheard that part of the conversation and interjected “Oh, Sandy, how sad that sounds! Don’t your parents feel lonely now that you and your brother both plan to move to the Caribbean?” 

“Thanks for the lemonade, Catherine,” Sandy replied and looked up, smiling quietly. “To be honest, I don’t think they miss us all that much. And they can always visit if they want to. They sometimes meddle, and what I said about trying to ‘fix’ people can be a very vexing experience. But other than that, they have their own lives to keep them busy, and they say that it’s our own decision how we want to spend ours. Unlike others – I mean, I’ve seen it with friends and their parents – they don’t want to live vicariously through us and our potential offspring. I’m glad about that, and they seem to mean it.” She held the glass of lemonade to her cheek and sighed, exchanging a glance with Richard. “Oh, this is good – so nice and cool! I can’t believe how hot it still is – it’s like we’re sitting in a greenhouse!”

Turning to Catherine again, she continued “As erratic as our relationship is, I’m grateful that they don’t pelt us with their expectations and try to make us live their lives, if you know what I mean. As it is, people always say that when you have children you’ll never be lonely, but how true is that really? I think it has always been normal for children once they grow up and become adults to go their own way and take possession of their own territory – just think of all the stories in history where sons fought against their fathers and all that.”

She took a crisp and went on “Or grown up children who moved to another part of the world because they couldn’t stand the narrowness and limitedness in their home surroundings – shaped by established society of which their forefathers were part of. Or parents disowning their children because they didn’t follow their wishes. Doesn’t that show that it’s more about each generation walking their own path – and maybe also about who’s in control? To me it sounds like family can be a huge battleground… and you’ve got to run for your life… or for your sanity! I honestly believe that there’s a lot of glorification of the so-called ideal close-knit family out there. Maybe I’m cynical, but with a mother who’s a psychotherapist, you get to hear a lot of things about dysfunctional families, and it’s hard to decide what’s normal out there!” 

She laughed softly, and Richard chuckled – he had had similar experiences during his years working for the police. ‘Normal’ was a very relative notion.

“What about you and your parents, Richard – you are a long way from home as well?” Sandy asked casually. Catherine was curious to hear what he’d have to say about that, so she remained where she was, trying to appear invisible. She didn’t know much about Richard’s family back home, and he always was so reserved about his personal life – it would be interesting to get a better insight.

“Oh, well… you know, I went to boarding school from age 8 or so, so my parents and I may not be typical. But as it is, I’d say that – like your parents - they pretty much have their – er - own lives, and they have spent quite some years abroad as well, due to my father’s job, so they don’t think there’s anything wrong with me not being close to them. It’s a pattern that’s normal for them. It’s good in many ways as they don’t expect me to jump through – um - hoops for them and just let me do my own thing. It has drawbacks as well, like anything, but you grow up with that, and it’s your “normal”, if you know what I mean. I think they did what they thought was right for me – regarding education and all that – but they never were very sentimental.” 

“Ah… the famous English stiff upper lip and all that,” Sandy laughed. 

Catherine wanted to object and say that Sandy and Richard were overly critical, but then she thought of her own experiences and kept her mouth shut. She had left her family back in France as a rather young woman and travelled around until she somehow got stuck in the Caribbean, met Camille’s father and got married to him. Her parents hadn’t been excited, but she had decided to go her own way. Then when Camille’s father had left the family for another woman, Catherine hadn’t even wasted a single thought on returning to France – where her birth family lived. 

She had spread her wings and flown away - Saint Marie had become her home, and she had figured that if her parents wanted to see her, they could always come and visit. She had gone to France several times over the years, whenever she could afford to do so – but the relationship with her parents had never been that great since she had left for the Caribbean, and they had resented her for not coming back and raising Camille in France, so while they had been concerned about each other, their concepts of what life should be like had been totally different, and that had eventually made them grow apart. 

Now, her parents were dead, and while Catherine had been sad when they passed away one after another and had wished that some things had turned out differently, she had also known that she had no real regrets and would live her life the same way if she had to do it all over again.

And when Camille had decided to leave for France, she had had to let her go her own way as well… She had been happy when she had returned, and she loved having her around now. She wanted it to stay this way… She did have her own life, but it was more fun when Camille was around, and she could see from friends and their experiences that it could be even more fun to see grandchildren growing up… but was that a good motive for trying to play matchmaker and make Camille get together with what she – her mother – considered ‘eligible’ men? How would she have felt if her parents had done that?

In light of what Sandy and Richard had just said in their conversation, it dawned upon her that her wish to marry off Camille and make her ‘produce’ grandchildren was indeed a bit selfish. She admitted to herself for a fraction of a minute that she wanted to tie Camille to Saint Marie so she wouldn’t be alone – but before this unpleasant piece of self-knowledge could get too overwhelming, she dismissed it, nodded and smiled at Sandy and said something casual and non-committal before moving on to another table with thirsty customers. 

However, the exchange she had witnessed came back to haunt her, and she felt a bit out of sorts for a while. She’d have to think about it some time – but not now. Was it so wrong to wish for Camille to settle down with a nice man and have a family? She sighed - she knew precisely that if her daughter finally fell in love with a man, she would do what she wanted, anyway. And she would make her own experiences and mistakes. It wasn’t always easy to be a mother, Catherine decided. She realised that her own mother must have felt the same way and sighed.

Sandy and Richard meanwhile moved on to another subject and talked about the differences between the educational systems in Britain and the US, and Richard told her a little about his studies in Cambridge. She was amazed to hear that he had a degree in history as that didn’t seem typical of someone working in the police, but then again – Richard was a rather versatile man and had many talents, as she had understood very quickly. He sometimes was a little awkward and abrupt, but they had no problems finding subjects to talk about, and so the evenings went by with friendly chats about all sorts of things. He was a very likeable man, besides ‘only’ being clever and profound, and she found it easy to talk to him. 

She had clearly noticed that he remained reserved and didn’t reveal much about himself, but she didn’t mind – he obviously was a very private person, and it was none of her business to stick her nose in his affairs. He was kind, and that was what counted most to her. And after all, she didn’t talk that much about personal things, either. Still it seemed like there was some kind of understanding between them. It was pleasant to spend time with someone who didn’t pay her silly, inappropriate compliments or bored her with self-important waffling, but took her seriously and listened to her. 

By the same token, Richard was more and more impressed with Sandy’s quiet matter-of-factness and her attempts to be objective and open about whatever came her way, willing to make the best of it and fending off people who’d try to take influence on her. She was independent in her own specific way, and she seemed very pragmatic in her approach to life. 

Still there was this air of constant sadness about her – although Richard wasn’t quite sure whether he was the only one who noticed it or she showed it more in his presence – he could only judge from her behaviour around him, obviously. It wasn’t really ‘tangible’, but now that he knew that she was in love with Marcus – who was evidently oblivious to her feelings and looked at her as if she was his little sister (at best) – he could understand some of her reactions and the slight mood shifts that came over her every once in a while. Marcus could be a little patronising towards her, and teased her mercilessly sometimes, just the way he did with Camille, and Sandy countered in her own quiet, pragmatic way, not showing any sign of irritation. She wasn’t as vibrant as Camille, and she was clever enough not to imitate her, but still her reactions were noted and respected.

Yes, there was something about her that made her stand out. And he had to admit to himself that – while there were no sparks between them - he liked her.


	5. Atmospheric Changes

In the meantime, Camille got more and more confused. By now, her emotions regarding Sandy had turned into a bit of a mixed bag. On one hand, she liked her, and their interaction – albeit superficial - was friendly. Sandy was clever, she was to-the-point, she had brains, she had the courage to try something new when she was at a dead end in her career, and she was undeniably beautiful without making a big fuss about it. She was no doormat, either – she said what she thought, but never got offensive or aggressive. She took all of Marcus’s and David’s antics with stoic quietness, but insisted if she felt she was right in her approach to things. She seemed perfectly balanced. In one word, Sandy Neville had class. 

And – Camille hated to admit the thought to herself as she watched them - Richard and Sandy looked good together – he appeared tall next to her, he came across as serious, reliable and trustworthy, and she was tiny and delicate, besides being beautiful she was also intelligent, her movements were swift and elegant… his reserved manners and somewhat solemn posture were the perfect foil for this! 

Compared to her, Camille felt almost clumsy. And she didn’t like that. It wasn’t Sandy’s fault – she never did anything to make Camille feel bad. But very reluctantly, Camille had to admit to herself that the more time she spent in Sandy’s company, the more inept she felt. She tried to shrug it off, and she didn’t change her behaviour, but she found herself watching Sandy interact with Richard every once in a while – apprehensively and with a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She sensed that there was something about Sandy that she couldn’t quite define… it was like she was a little melancholic without any obvious reason. Was it just part of her personality, or was there more behind it? There was a certain feeling of aloofness, and she seemed a little guarded about showing her feelings – as if she was hiding something. That made Camille suspicious – and along with her confusion about Richard’s obvious affection for Sandy (and vice versa), it made her feel a bit wary about David’s sister. 

It really bothered her that Sandy had been on good terms with Richard right from the start while she had to work so hard to get closer to him… it was unfair! Maybe Richard liked Sandy so much because she was like him? That was food for thought… After all, they said that people of the same kind liked to stick together. Birds of a feather, and all that… Admittedly, Richard could go off like a rocket when he ran out of patience, and Camille couldn’t see that happening with Sandy, but they shared the same guardedness and an undeniable love for accuracy. 

Granted - absolutely nobody could be as pedantic, nitpicky and childish as Richard, but then again – he was a man, and an only child. Of course, the years at boarding school had shaped him from childhood, and he had had to find his place in the pecking order there. But at home, during school holidays, he still had been the only child… Sandy Neville had an older brother, so she had to occupy a different niche, plus there were gender specific expectations in society that she might have to fulfil – and tried to do so instinctively. 

A woman who’d go on a rant the way Richard did sometimes would perhaps be considered hagglish, abrupt and spoilt – and that could quickly lead to social ostracism… which seemed harder to bear for women than it appeared to be for men. Women tended to be a bit like herd animals – you found fewer obvious loners among them than among men. Richard didn’t seem to mind being the outsider – of course, Camille knew him better now and realised that he wasn’t always happy with his role, but in general, he seemed okay. It was what he knew, and he could deal with it… at least mostly.

With men, people also tended to be a bit more lenient – at least that was Camille’s experience. People always seemed to say that women should change (or ‘adapt’ – which was an euphemism for the same thing) if they didn’t fit other people’s expectations, but she had hardly heard the same thing being said about men – their weird behaviour usually was accepted quietly and shrugged off. “That’s just the way he is” was something she had heard very often. She reflected that - while they had different coping mechanisms and expressed themselves differently - Richard and Sandy were actually quite alike in their way of looking at things. 

It never occurred to her that Richard might have similar feelings about Marcus and her. They both said what they wanted, and they had no doubts it would be respected. It was obvious that they got along famously, and they also made a nice pair in regard to looks. They simply were on the same wavelength, as it seemed. Richard was well aware of the fact that Marcus was at least five years younger than him, if not more – plus he was about 3-4 inches taller, not to mention his broad smile and his complexion… nobody would ever compare him to the Pillsbury Doughboy, Richard thought sullenly, remembering his school days. 

Camille’s eyes were shining with affectionate mischief when she was talking to Marcus, and he sometimes had a way of looking at Camille with a certain kind of pride and sense of entitlement – as if he owned her. That irritated Richard, but much to his dismay, Camille didn’t seem to mind. “There goes all her sense of independence,” he thought morosely when Marcus just decided for all of them how they’d spend the evening and what they’d be eating… 

Richard knew that if he ever dared to behave that way, Camille wouldn’t hesitate to give him a dressing-down, and she’d most likely call him a male chauvinist pig or whatever other expression – French or English – would come to her mind at that moment. Not that he’d want to make decisions for her – she was a big girl and knew well enough what was good for her. He respected her for going her own way. She was actually very pragmatic in a lot of ways, and although she approached people – and cases – in a completely different way from him, she was very resourceful and came up with amazing results. 

It had taken him a while, but eventually, he had had to acknowledge that there were many ways to do things – not only his. She did make compromises for people who were important to her (like her mother), but that didn’t affect her personal integrity and authenticity. Grumpily he thought he’d never see the day when Camille would look at him the way she looked at Marcus. Not that it was important, anyway – he was just suffering from a momentary infatuation. It couldn’t be anything else, or could it? Well, yes, it could, and in his heart, he knew it was… but it wasn’t important… And whenever the thought came up, he shoved it aside.

For someone who was usually so observant and noticed small details about others, he was extremely dense when it came to his own affairs – he didn’t realise that Camille’s eyes got tender and warm when she looked at him and thought nobody was watching her. 

Their friendship meant a lot to her. 

Friendship – or was it more than that? Did she want it to be more? Did she want to invest in building up a ‘relationship’? 

She had been happily single for a while now, and the thought of being tied down, as she called it, didn’t appeal much to her. But then, did a happy relationship really feel like being tied down? Didn’t it rather mean an enrichment… and being with someone who’d go through life with her together, sharing good and bad times, and giving and receiving love and shelter when the earth was shaking and insecurity was striking? 

One thing was sure, at least as she saw it – it did not mean giving up oneself and losing one’s identity just to please one’s so-called partner (partners were equal, so this notion actually didn’t apply to the ‘bad’ relationships Camille was thinking of at this point). It was wonderful to be in love, but not if the price meant having to give up one’s interests, friends and identity. Or having to cater to someone’s wishes around the clock. Or having to deal with emotional blackmailing. She had experienced all this and left it behind. There was no way she’d ever want to go down that route again. That wasn’t love.

In any case, the current situation began to worry her a little. What if Marcus and the others decided to stay on the island for good? What would come out of Richard’s friendship with Sandy? Could she bear seeing him with someone else? She suddenly felt cold when this thought crossed her mind.

Her reflections as well as her feelings showed her that her once so firmly rooted philosophy about what she wanted and where she was heading was clearly falling to the wayside. She wasn’t quite sure yet about her emotions at this point… and what to do about them, so she kept a low profile… 

As soon as she had noticed that her feelings towards Richard were becoming stronger, she had become more cautious, particularly in her mother’s presence, and had generally tried not to let herself slip, but it happened every once in a while, anyway. 

Her thoughts went back to the first evening with Marcus and his friends… Marcus had actually noticed immediately that Richard was important to her, and he had started teasing Camille about it right there and then – David had gone to fetch a drink, and Marcus had leant back in his chair, sporting a big smile and showing off his immaculate teeth. He had nodded in Richard’s direction and said sotto voce “So, that’s your latest crush, huh? I can see it in your eyes! Your taste obviously has changed, Camille!” 

The sudden guarded look on her face and the low hissy voice in which she had answered had silenced him immediately, though. She had made it clear instantly that there was absolutely nothing wrong with Richard, he was the best boss she had ever had, he had found Aimee’s murderer and put him behind bars, and after all, it was none of Marcus’s or anybody else’s business, anyway, what she did or didn’t see in anyone. And he wasn’t a ‘crush’, for that matter (that part had come out in an almost aggressive way!)…

That had been enough – he hadn’t broached the subject any more after that. Her outburst had made Camille question her sentiments, though – she knew she should have laughed it off, but her strong reaction seemed to indicate something she did not want to dig into any deeper at this point. It had taken her a little while to acknowledge that things had been shifting between her and Richard… but acknowleding hadn’t helped her much in regard to what to do about it all…

In the meantime, Richard wondered why Camille put up with Marcus’s clearly benevolent but still rather dominant behaviour. As he wasn’t connected any more to the few friends he had had in his youth he missed an important factor: Marcus certainly had some privileges – so-to-speak by customary law – just because they had been friends for so long already. 

He didn’t take into account, either, that Camille was so lenient with Marcus because she hadn’t seen him in such a long time – she was well aware of his faults, but given the fact that he and his friends wouldn’t stay on Saint Marie for much longer (and who knew if they’d return at all!), it didn’t seem worth arguing about certain things. And she could call him all sorts of names that he never would have tolerated from others, too, so it was a mutual thing. 

Richard realised that Marcus was proud and happy to have Camille as a friend – and he had every reason to feel that way. What he didn’t understand, though, was how Marcus loved showing her off to his friends, and Camille didn’t seem to mind one bit. She was daring, lively and zappy, and she was entertaining – all good and well, but she shouldn’t be treated like she was a circus pony, performing and doing tricks for him. Richard found that appalling.

Catherine obviously didn’t have any qualms regarding all this. Clearly, she was very pleased with having Marcus around – after all, he was distracting her daughter from her boss. Catherine was well aware of Camille’s growing affection for Richard – she felt that the two of them spent way too many evenings together at his shack, on top of being tied together at work, anyway. It was one thing to have them sitting at the bar where she could see them and keep an eye on the development of their relationship. But who knew what happened at the beach house? 

All in all, it wasn’t so much that she didn’t like Richard – he had his good sides, he could be very kind, and since he had loosened up a little and decided not to wear his woollen suits constantly, he had become a lot more pleasant and easier to deal with. But he was a complex man, and she wasn’t quite sure if Camille would be happy with someone so… English. 

So, it was a good thing that Marcus was here now to bring a little distraction. Catherine liked him, and she wouldn’t have minded if more would come out of this friendship. They had always got on so well as teenagers… and didn’t people say that old love never dies? Well, she’d wait and see - time would tell.

*************

As the days went by, David received several phonecalls from his wife Erin, not to mention numerous text messages and e-mails, and by Tuesday of the second week, it was decided that she’d come over for the weekend. David promptly booked a suite in a beach resort for Erin and himself for the weekend – he enjoyed staying in the Commissioner’s guest house together with Sandy and Marcus, and they all had lots of space there with separate bedrooms and ensuite bathrooms, so it was really a luxurious arrangement – but he wanted more privacy with Erin. 

However, Mrs Patterson wouldn’t hear of him picking up Erin and taking her straight to the resort. She decided that they’d have a welcome party for her, and she wouldn’t accept ‘no’ as an answer to her ‘suggestion’ – obviously, it was more an order than anything else – and everybody knew it. Selwyn Patterson wasn’t particularly excited about this all – there already was too much gung-ho in his house for his liking since Marcus and his friends had arrived, but he tried to be indulgent with his wife. After all, she hadn’t had much of a chance to fuss over Marcus over the past few years… He was well aware of the fact that this welcome party wasn’t in honour of Erin, but more a ‘do’ for Marcus. But whatever… he knew when it was hopeless to say no. She was the ruler of the house.

So, he gave in to her idea, and everybody was informed that the Commissioner and his wife would be pleased to welcome the complete team of the Honoré Police Station – plus their respective spouses (they all knew this referred to Juliet alone… Fidel teased her about the pompous description, but Juliet just laughed when he showed her the e-mail) – to the welcome party for Erin Neville, friend of the family, at the Commissioner’s home, at Friday night at 8 o’clock. There’d be food to nibble, though no formal dinner, and a DJ had been hired (only the Pattersons could hire someone at such short notice!), so there’d be music and dancing, too. The Commissioner had added a PS to his e-mail regarding the dresscode: ‘Smart casual’ was the motto. 

The reactions of the respective team members to this invitation were decidedly different…

Richard groaned – pretty much the only good thing about the invitation was indeed the dresscode, everything else sounded pretty dreadful to him. At least he wouldn’t have to take out a dinner jacket – that he didn’t have, for that matter. He’d just wear one of his regular suits, that should do. He’d perhaps be a little overdressed, but there was no way he’d put too much stress on the word ‘casual’ in the invitation. He’d leave the tie at home, but other than that, he’d just dress professionally, that should be ‘smart’ enough. He only hoped the Commissioner hadn’t decided to do without real tables and chairs – his lower back already was in a sorry state, and standing at a bar table all evening, clinging to a glass of whatever horrible drink there’d be available, was a prospect that didn’t appeal to him at all. Not to mention the possibility of spicy dishes and seafood on the buffet – but he could survive that, he had become practiced at how to avoid all that by now. 

He wasn’t so enthusiastic about the music and dancing part, either, but at least the Commissioner’s wife wasn’t likely to hire a DJ who would play blazing Caribbean rhythms all night long. From previous occasions he knew that she preferred a mix of older and more modern tunes, though nothing too trendy – she tended to invite friends of all age ranges, and as she wanted to make sure that people had a chance to converse with each others as well as listen to the music, she made a point in not having a royal rave up in her premises. Richard had actually quite enjoyed some of the events at the Pattersons’ place – he usually didn’t know all the songs and tunes that were played, but a lot of them were familiar to him from his childhood or favourites of his mother. 

Dwayne just rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible – he clearly wasn’t too keen on another evening spent under the hawk eyes of the Commissioner. Plus he’d have to cancel his date with the nice lady he had just met recently at La Kaz – he knew that this wouldn’t go down well with her, and his chances to see her again were below zero now. Well, at least there’d be free food and drinks, and maybe the music would be good, too.

Fidel sighed. Another night out… He hoped that his mother-in-law wouldn’t mind looking after Rosie on such short notice. Juliet would surely be excited to have the chance to see everyone again, and she also got on well with Mrs Patterson – but really, couldn’t Marcus and the Nevilles just hit the road and move on to another island so they could live their normal lives again and didn’t have to stand at the Commissioner’s beck and call for social events that they didn’t really want to attend?

Camille beamed. Not only was she great friends with Marcus, she and David also really got along well, and he had told her a lot about Erin – so she was curious to meet her. And a party with finger food and music to dance to – now, that always was a good thing, wasn’t it? She remembered all the parties that she had attended with Marcus back then in the stone ages – they had always danced together very well. She was looking forward to dressing up a little – ‘smart casual’ was okay with her, that meant she could wear her new emerald green dress with the matching shoes and the golden earrings and necklace that she saved for special occasions. 

Maybe Richard would finally take notice of her again, and they’d have a real conversation. She hadn’t visited him any more after that one evening – there just hadn’t been any time – and at work, he had been friendly and polite, but also a bit distant, and there hadn’t been any opportunities for talking more privately. She really missed that – she hadn’t realised how much she had become used to seeing him out of work and having long and (mostly!) interesting chats with him…

Well, admittedly… she did see him out of work – but there were usually others around then, and he always seemed to be involved in conversations with whoever – mostly with Sandy, as it seemed, but also with others… just not with her. She had felt a little neglected lately…

Apart from the police team, Mrs Patterson had invited a couple of good friends who had known Marcus since his childhood, and everyone was interested to hear how he had been faring, who his friends were and what plans they had for the future. The party was held in the rooms of the ground floor of the Pattersons’ house – it was large, and they had moved some of the furniture to other rooms, so there was enough space for everyone. Altogether, about 20 people were present – and apart from Erin, David and Sandy, everyone was familiar with the crowd, so there wouldn’t be any stiffness, and people would hopefully feel comfortable quickly. 

As the guests slowly trickled in, Richard was relieved that he had decided on one of his suits, along with a dress shirt – he could always get rid of the jacket, but he had felt it wouldn’t be appropriate to come in chinos and a short sleeved shirt. At least not for him… No matter how strongly the ‘smart casual’ in the PS in the Commissioner’s e-mail had been emphasised – he had done the right thing. Most of the men were wearing at least some sort of semi-formal attire. There were no tuxedos – that had been out of the question with the dresscode hint – but nearly everyone wore a jacket and semi-formal trousers. The women wore mostly knee-length cocktail dresses or something in that category. 

Camille looked absolutely ravishing in an elegant emerald green dress with short sleeves and frilly seams, and she beamed at him when he stood up to greet her. The excitement in her eyes made her look even more radiant. She was clearly looking forward to the party, and Richard thought she had never been more beautiful. Her hair was pinned up – that emphasised the immaculate column of her neck - she wore lovely jewelry, and the perfectly matching emerald green sandals with high heels and golden accents made her wonderful legs look even longer. 

As far as he was concerned, Camille could wear a potato sack, and she’d still look stunning, but her outfit tonight was coming very close in effect to the unforgettable red dress she had worn on the fateful evening of the Erzulie festival. On that evening, he had allowed himself to fantasize about a totally different sort of relationship with Camille – and although he had banished the thoughts and dreams almost as quickly as they had appeared, they came back to haunt him regularly these days… 

He was so angry with himself for all that. He had got by on his own so far, he’d continue to do so. And in the meantime, while the folly lasted, he’d just have to take showers and listen to music at night… and one day he’d wake up, and it would be over. Yes, it would… maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but eventually, it would be over. 

He forced himself to turn away from Camille and say hello to the other guests. She’d undoubtedly get more than enough attention from others tonight… 

So, there was David’s wife… Erin turned out to be a friendly woman in her early 30s, with short jet black hair and warm smoky grey eyes. Her smile was contagious, and it was easy to see that David literally adored her. He was bursting with pride when they entered the room together.

Her slim fit sheath dress was bright red, and along with the bright red high heels, she looked almost intriguing. She whispered something in David’s ear that made him chuckle quietly – Richard felt a pang of envy as he was witnessing this rather private moment. Those two obviously were a close-knit couple… he couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like to be so close to somebody that you had a secret code with that person…

She clearly was under no illusion whom this party was for – no matter what the Pattersons said, it was obvious that they were having this for Marcus, not for her. Richard was amused at how seriously she thanked Mrs Patterson for inviting everybody and having this get-together for her – at the same time her eyes were twinkling as she looked over to David. 

Marcus rolled his eyes at her when he noticed – he knew only too well that his aunt was doing this for him, too, and he had tried to keep things on an informal level, but had only succeeded partially. The hiring of the DJ was a compromise that Mrs Patterson had to agree to due to the fact that the party was held at such short notice – she would have loved to hire a band and turn this all into a full blown ball with posh long evening gowns and tuxedos. 

The Commissioner had known from the start that it was a silly idea, but he couldn’t talk her out of it, so he had been glad when Marcus had started to toot his uncle’s horn. At first, he, too, had a hard time convincing her that it would actually be much better to let people come in less swanky clothes. But she had to give in when he had pointed out that neither he nor his friends had formal evening clothes with them and that an upscale dresscode would put people under pressure, and some might even not be able to come because of that. Why go that far when they could have a nice party without all that trouble?

And so Mrs Patterson had downscaled her plans, not without initially feeling a little disappointed, but now that the evening had arrived, she was actually glad that she had had the grandiose idea of having a less formal get-together – it would all be a lot more enjoyable this way, people would have more fun, and she would have less work with the preparations. 

Yes, indeed – that had been one of the best ideas she had ever had…


	6. Unexpected Developments

The evening had started off nicely. It was fun to just sit back and watch people. Richard found that he had a much better time than expected. The food was good, the music was bearable - mostly instrumental at this point - and not too loud, and the people sitting around him were pleasant. 

There were Fidel and Juliet (in a lovely ivory dress with a lacy bodice that suited her very well – Fidel obviously thought the same - he couldn’t take his eyes off her), Dwayne had taken a seat nearby, too, and Sandy Neville had sat next to Richard – she had showed up in a sapphire blue cocktail dress that matched the colour of her eyes and had combed her wonderful hair in a seemingly simple chignon. She was the epitome of cool elegance, and her style was much admired by the other guests. 

Richard was amused when he noticed that his reputation and value seemed to increase because she greeted him warmly and then sat next to him rightaway. Mrs Patterson’s friends made a few remarks about Sandy’s behaviour within his earshot, but he pretended not to hear them. He knew only too well that Sandy wasn’t really interested in him as a prospective partner – and it didn’t bother him one bit. It would just make his life more complicated than it already was at this point if she had deeper feelings for him. He was safe with her. 

The conversation at his set of tables was entertaining as well, so Richard was pleased. He wasn’t all that keen on gatherings of that kind, but some were more bearable than others. It was the small things that made a huge difference – like comfortable chairs, cleverly arranged tables, and potential for a smooth and graceful exit when you were beginning to feel bored, hot or bothered. 

The veranda doors were all open, a fan on the ceiling was whisking the air. There were two big tables where the buffet was served, and Mrs Patterson had seen to it that several small tables were dotted all over the room, so people could either sit separately or move tables together to bigger sets. It all panned out very well – people mingled and mixed, and everyone seemed happy. 

Camille was pleased to finally get to know Erin and congratulated her on her choice of dress. “It’s a fairly dramatic colour, isn’t it,” Erin said, looking down her exquisite knee-length gown. “David told me that Saint Marie used to be the home of a famous pirate who has apparently hidden a treasure of gold here, so I thought I better wear something ‘cloak-and-dagger’, if you know what I mean.” She laughed. “Pirates and a hidden treasure, really! How romantic! And how totally unlikely!” 

Marcus raised his eyebrows at her and said “Now, don’t you laugh, Erin – that pirate story is good for the tourism industry! You should write an article about it some time!” Camille agreed, shot Richard a brief cheeky glance and remarked “But you’d better not ask the Chief of Police about his thoughts on this topic – I can tell you that he was in complete disbelief when he heard the story, and he would possibly come up with a long lecture about how it’s a complete hoax that pirates ever stayed on this island.” 

Richard smiled amiably and said “You know what, Camille, the Chief of Police might just be right about that – after all, he’s known to be the scientific no-nonsense type. But then again – certain people have tried to convince him otherwise, and you never know, there’s a slight possibility that they could have succeeded in the end!” He looked at her directly now, with a twinkle in his eyes – and Camille’s stomach flipped. Was this one of his unpredictable charm offensives? Whatever – it did have quite an unexpected effect on her…

Turning to Erin who had raised her eyebrows at this exchange, he introduced himself to her “Richard Poole – Chief of the local police station! Pleased to meet you, and welcome to the island!” Erin laughed out loud now. “Oh, that’s just too funny! Good to meet you, Richard – I’ve been dying to get to know you! David has told me already about you, and Sandy certainly has been raving about you!”

Richard was a little taken aback, and Sandy said quietly and with a slightly embarrassed undertone “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t use that term, Erin. All I have been doing was pointing out what good company Richard is.” “And that’s what I mean when I say ‘raving’… we all know how reserved you usually are when it comes to praising people!” Erin laughed again. 

Camille suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. She was all for Richard being praised, but not by people other than herself, the boys, their friends – and the Commissioner, of course. When she realised her feelings, she chided herself for being so possessive. It was good that he was loosening up and becoming more easy going, after all. How come it felt so strange? Was it because she was… no, she wasn’t jealous. Certainly not. Why would she?

She dismissed the thought as quickly as it came up and participated in the conversation welling up around her. She and Richard didn’t have a chance to talk, apart from general remarks, but it felt good to be together with him, exchange some banter and the occasional glance of mutual understanding when a topic came up that they shared the same views on. Maybe they’d have another opportunity to talk more later this evening… and perhaps she could even talk him into dancing with her? Nothing too wild, obviously, but a slow dance… that would be nice!

He looked very handsome in his suit – admittedly, she saw him in suits all the time, but tonight he kind of stood out to her. Maybe it was because he was so relaxed? He laughed and smiled more often than he usually did, as it seemed, and that made him look younger as well. And as he didn’t wear a tie, he had left the top button of his shirt open – that suited him. His skin was very light – she had never noticed it that way before… she had to force herself a couple of times not to stare at him. This was ridiculous… resolutely, she turned away from him and chatted with David and Erin. 

As time passed and the food platters were getting emptier, the music got a bit louder, and the Commissioner’s wife encouraged everyone to get up and dance. The ‘dance floor’ was in the neighbouring room – that was connected to the dinner area with an open folding door. So it was separate, but you could easily watch from the other room what was going on. 

In order to get things going, she gave the DJ a hint – and the Commissioner promptly got up from his chair – with an acquiescent, almost resigned look on his face. Sam Cooke’s voice filled the room, and they began to dance a foxtrot to his well-known song “Wonderful World”. Other couples followed them to the dance floor, and there was a lot of coming and going and shuffling around the tables. 

Richard hadn’t danced in a long time – at least not in public. It was a whole different thing that he sometimes danced a few steps in his home when a particular song inspired him – you could hardly call that dancing. He had a fairly good feeling for rhythm, though, and he was familiar with the basic steps of the most common dances. However, he had no intention of making a fool of himself tonight. Everyone around here danced much, much better than he did, and so he prepared himself for a more or less lengthy period of sitting around, watching people dance and having a series of interrupted conversations before it would be time to go home. He checked his watch and calculated quickly – he might have the chance to get out of here within the next two hours… maybe even quicker, with some luck. It was a clear night, and maybe he’d manage to do a little stargazing before going to bed. 

He went to the buffet once again, exchanged some polite words with Mrs Patterson, tried to avoid the Commissioner and watched the others dancing away. Fidel and Juliet were dancing a disco fox together, and Dwayne was busy manoeuvring one of Mrs Patterson’s friends through the room. He was covering up his occasional insecurities by flashing her charming smiles and talking her ear off – very good strategy, Richard observed. The lady seemed oblivious to Dwayne’s slight mistakes and beamed at him, clearly enjoying the dance. The DJ had a wide selection of music – and he did a good job in mixing the various songs and rhythms, so everyone had a chance to dance if they were inclined to do so.

It was interesting to watch the different pairs on the dance floor. Erin and David danced quite a bit. They made a nice couple, and it was obvious that they knew what they were doing – they came up with quite a few extra steps that you needed practice and experience for, so Richard assumed that they had attended lots of dinner parties or formal dances together. Unlike him who had mostly danced at university events – he had never become better than average, but that was okay with him. He wasn’t a party animal, anyway, and he always felt like he didn’t belong when he was invited to gatherings that would involve getting physically close to others. He hadn’t even liked team sports because of the possible physical contact and focused on things he could do on his own, like running.

It was not that he disliked women – quite the opposite – but he had gone to an all boys’ school, and up until the end of his school days he hadn’t had much contact with females in general – other than his mother, the House Matron and the nuns at school. So, women were a mystery to him. He never seemed to understand the code they were using in communication, and that made him insecure in their presence. He got confused and tongue-tied, and he hated this. This feeling had lasted all the way through his university days – with the occasional exception… but nothing had come out of that…

Working with women was a different thing, that was a professional environment, and he got on well with most of his female colleagues (well… Camille would perhaps doubt that – their cooperation certainly had been a bit of a challenge initially, and they still had their clashes, although it had become considerably easier with time… she just was so… French, so that made it harder for him than it already was in the first place). He suspected that was mostly due to the fact that he talked business, didn’t make any – or at least very, very few - sexist remarks and treated them fairly – the way he wanted to be treated as well – they liked that in everyday office situations. 

But it kind of “tilted over” when there were social gatherings, like Christmas parties or other events he couldn’t possibly avoid – then they shook off their professionalism, and he felt clumsy again… they got all touchy-feely and coquettish, and he hardly knew how to react to that. It was a shorthand he was not familiar with, and it scared him out of his wits. In order to avoid the embarrassment, he ended up not attending get-togethers like that as far as possible, using the most absurd excuses – which helped to contribute to his reputation of being a weird loner. 

Fortunately, here on Saint Marie, people didn’t put so much pressure on him – he was honestly grateful for that. They still found him weird, but the mentality was generally more easy-going, so he didn’t feel criticised so much.

“You should try it… you know, love,” Camille had teased him one evening when they all had been playing Cluedo on his veranda. Well, she hadn’t been playing. She had been watching a couple walking on the beach – the woman had been one of the witnesses in the Jacaranda clinic case. The man she had got to know in Catherine’s bar had been with her, and she had looked at least a decade younger just because she had been happy and cheerful… and love – or the flirt – had made her blossom. Richard hadn’t known how to respond to Camille’s remark without telling her more than he wanted her to know. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to love anybody. Or that he didn’t know how to love… There just hadn’t been anybody to come into his life that he had wanted to hold on to. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true…

There had been a few superficial “almost relationships” over the years, but they all had fizzled out eventually before they had become too serious. Maybe it was because he never really let anybody get emotionally close to him – out of fear that they might not like him any more if they got to know him better -, maybe it was because of his inhibitions and self-consciousness – and maybe the former was a consequence of the latter? He had never found out. Once a girl at university had actually called him “prim and proper” – with a disparaging undertone. He knew that it had been a thinly veiled euphemism for “OCD, pedantic and nitpicky”. 

Well, he liked rules – they gave him structure and security in a world full of potential traps and pitfalls. The same went for habits and routines – those formed a corset for him and helped him finding his way.

Only once in his life, he had met a woman whom he would have been willing to let in and get close to – they had been good friends, and he had thought more could come out of it… but it hadn’t happened. So, it wasn’t only that he hadn’t met anybody he had wanted to hold on to – nobody had wanted to hold on to him, either. And eventually, he didn’t care any more – he just kept to himself, and he got by perfectly fine, didn’t he!

In hindsight, he wondered if it had been a good idea of his parents to put him in boarding school, but he knew they had just wanted the best for him. And whatever the case may be… who knew whether he wouldn’t have turned out just as socially awkward under different circumstances? It was all speculation. 

He tapped his foot to the rhythm of the music and focused on watching the dancing couples again. It was pointless to dwell on the past. You couldn’t change that any more, so why waste time and wish things had developed differently…

Things were heating up as the DJ went for more Latin rhythms. Of course, Marcus and Camille had been on the dance floor almost constantly, and they had taken only few breaks. As soon as the music had started, they had jumped to their feet and gone off dancing. Only every once in a while, they had stood and chatted a little. A couple of times they had switched partners – Erin and David had been more than willing to go along with them – but most of the time they had danced together.

And how they danced! It was spectacular. Currently, a salsa was playing, and Richard ungrudgingly admired the beauty of their movements – he never would have known how to move in a dance like that, but to them it just seemed to come naturally. A little wistfully, he thought it was a shame that the only woman he really wished to hold in his arms was otherwise engaged and wouldn’t waste a second glance on him, but well… such was life. You had to carry on, regardless of your feelings.

He returned to his table. Fidel and Juliet had taken a break – Juliet was literally breathless and complained that she wasn’t as fit as she used to be. They all laughed – she had danced for almost twenty minutes non-stop, and that was longer than many others would have lasted. 

Richard noticed that Sandy’s laughter sounded a little contrived and hollow. He looked at her and sensed she was getting sad. The Commissioner had danced with her once, Dwayne had asked her to go for a civilised foxtrot with him, and Juliet had made Fidel dance with her, too – but other than that, she had remained sitting, nibbling on her food, sipping at her drink – and watching the people on the dance floor. David had ignored her – well, he was her brother, after all! And Marcus had only waved briefly as he had been swirling Camille around in a waltz a while ago. Good grief, they had managed to make even a waltz look sexy and frivolous…

Richard understood that Sandy felt ignored and neglected. He could relate – he felt a little left out, too. Camille hadn’t looked at him once to see what he was doing while she was dancing… so, apparently, she wasn’t interested and didn’t care how he felt. Well, why would she… she had all she wanted – a dashing partner who danced with her, smiled at her and clearly was moonstruck with her. She didn’t need him. He was boring. 

If only they’d play something slower, then he’d maybe ask Sandy to dance to do her a favour and distract her a little… Chances were that the dance floor would be full then, and his lack of practice would perhaps not become so evident. And she wasn’t the kind of person who’d try to get indecently close and make him feel uncomfortable – she was in love with someone else, and so he would be safe in that respect - so they both maybe would even enjoy the dance. Asking Camille for a slow dance was useless, anyway. That would be beneath her – she wanted it fast and furious… like Marcus, not bleak and boring… like him. 

His wish for a slower dance wasn’t granted… the next tune was a tango. More and more couples left the dance floor as it was a difficult dance, but Marcus and Camille stayed on. They had more than enough space now, and within the next minute, a circle had formed around them. Everyone was watching them dancing – they were doing it so well, it resembled a professional performance. They had done several courses together as teenagers during school holidays and practised extensively, and now it was all coming back to them… they were totally in sync, their movements were smooth and accurate, yet passionate and natural. They were on a high together, the look on their faces was euphoric, and it was clear that they couldn’t stop to save their lives.

Richard had seen Camille dancing before at other occasions, but never had she been more beautiful – and more out of his league, as he admitted to himself with a considerable amount of bitterness. He could never ever dance with her like that – he’d look like a peasant. This was clearly not his arena. But Marcus was just perfect as her partner. 

Yeah right, Richard thought, trying not to feel too sullen. Surfing, jetskiing, swimming, diving, dancing, maybe also stand-up paddling, skydiving or whatever was ‘hip’ these days – all things that I’m totally useless at. Not to mention that he’s got hair. The two of them really made a nice pair. 

His lips twitched, and he tried to ignore the dark cloud that was beginning to hover above his head once again. He had been able to detach himself from the stabs that had been tormenting him on and off since he had heard about Marcus’s visit and met him, but it hadn’t always been easy – and in some situations he had needed all his willpower to ignore the pain and act as if everything was alright. 

And really, the problem wasn’t Marcus. It had nothing to do with him – it was more an issue that he had with himself… He knew that much, but it didn’t help to make him feel better. Well, he was used to hiding his feelings and keeping them in, so he didn’t let it show… There was no point in getting too emotional about his situation.

Suddenly, there was a movement next to him – he turned around just in time to save Sandy’s glass from falling over. A look on her agitated, pale face showed him that she was not taking this lightly. Pushing his own feelings aside, Richard realised something had to happen, or she’d cause a stir. He was afraid she might faint, so he touched her arm and asked softly “Would you like to go outside for a moment?” She nodded hastily, and he took her elbow to lead her out on the veranda. She stumbled a little, but his hand steadied her, and so they made it out in the open air without further trouble. The doors were open, and the prominent rhythm of the tune followed them.

They were heading to the far end of the veranda, the sound of the music was less overpowering there. Sandy was obviously not aware of where she was going and completely relied on Richard guiding her. They stopped at the balustrade. Finally, she was standing completely still for a moment, hands clutched around the wooden handrail, taking a couple of deep breaths and trying to regain her composure. Richard stood beside her, dead embarrassed and unsure what he should do now. He could deal with anger and shouting, and he knew what to do when people became nasty – he had learnt to be stoic about that sort of thing, and he had a certain repertoire of coping strategies. Every once in a while, an icy remark was effective and useful, too. But crying or generally distressed women – that was a completely different affair. Obviously, he couldn’t just vanish and leave her here, no matter how uncomfortable he felt. Yes, the “knight in shining armour” number had its disadvantages – he realised it with a wry smile. 

Eventually, after a few moments, Sandy turned around to him and said “Thank you, Richard,” – her voice was fairly steady, and much to his relief there were no tears to speak of. Her eyes were a little bit puffy, but it wasn’t too obvious with the light being so dim. “Um… you are welcome. I thought you might want another view for a change,” he said and retrieved a clean handkerchief, holding it out to her. She took it gratefully, dabbed her eyes carefully and laughed – it sounded a bit wobbly and unsure, but she was thankful for his attempt to play things down a little. “Yes, right… it’s just that… Camille and Marcus…” 

“Oh, I know,” he replied drily. “Life of the party, huh! It’s a bit too much. Easy to see that it disconcerts you.” That was the understatement of the century – for someone as self-controlled as her, she had let her face fall quite a bit. 

She looked down, then lifted her head again, and her gaze met his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that…” “I know. You don’t have to explain. I’ve seen you watching them for quite a while now, and… oh well. It can be hard to see others having fun and knowing it’s out of one’s own league – for whatever reason.” 

That was more than he had wanted to say, but it was out before he knew it. Oh well, never mind. She wasn’t the type who’d gossip around, and after all, it was a very general statement. The way she looked at him, though, showed him that she understood: They were in the same boat. 

Silence fell between them. He shifted from one foot to the other. The tango music inside had finished, a different tune was playing now. It was a slow rumba, as far as he could tell. Seemed like the DJ wanted to give everyone an opportunity to cool down after the last few dances – or lure more people onto the floor again now that the tango ‘performance’ of one particular couple was over.

Sandy noticed the new song and remarked with a slightly wistful undertone “Faith Hill – Let me let go… do you know that one?” He shook his head, so she explained “It was in a movie – I forgot which one. Anyway, it’s about a failed relationship and how one of them can’t move on. Quite to the point, huh? Only that I never really had a relationship with Marcus – I fell for him rightaway when I met him for the first time, but I’ve always known he’s out of my league, and as a woman, I’m invisible to him. He doesn’t notice me in that way.” 

She blew her nose. “The not being able to move on part in the song is accurate, though. We – we hadn’t seen each other in a while, so I thought I was over him, and we could be friends now, then David had this idea with the practice… Work was awful, and I so wanted to get away from it. I was sure I could cope, but it turns out I can’t…” She sniffed. “I guess I should reconsider that joint practice thing – it might break my back. Kind of ironic to say this about an orthopaedist doing that to you… You knew about my feelings, didn’t you?” 

He looked down, shrugged awkwardly and mumbled something incoherent. She smiled sadly. Her voice was soft when she said “Thank you for not embarrassing me. You are… one of a kind, you know.” Then she squared her shoulders and stood straight. “Right… well, I suppose I’ll have some thinking to do.” 

Richard was moved by her attempt to put on a brave face. He understood her only too well. On an impulse and much to his own surprise, he held out his hand and said “Seems like – um - a good tune to dance to – for both of us, I reckon. May I? I’m not the world’s greatest dancer, but I think I can do a rumba, if you’re not too critical?” She tried a hesitant smile and blinked back the tears that kept coming now. “Oh, Richard – that would be lovely. And thank you for – well, for being so understanding…”

And so it happened that when Camille came to look for Richard, she found him dancing with another woman on the veranda. 

At first, she only saw his back, then – as she was already halfway through the door and about to call out to him – she realised he was moving slowly, apparently swaying to the sound of the music inside, his head was gently tilted to one side… was he drunk? 

But then he turned just a little bit, and she saw him in half profile… She noticed the hand firmly clasped in his, small female feet in high heels close to his perfectly polished black shoes, and Sandy’s honey blond hair as she leant her head on his shoulder, eyes closed and lips curved in a dreamy smile. 

Hardly believing her eyes and then totally shocked when she realised they were indeed not deceiving her, she turned around to flee – and bumped into Marcus who had come right after her. The startled look on his face mirrored her own turmoil. Obviously, he was just as jolted and shaken by the scenario on the veranda as she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Let me let go” is a song written by Steve Diamond and Dennis Morgan, and recorded by American country music artist Faith Hill. It was released in September 1998. It’s part of the soundtrack for the movie “Message in a Bottle”, and it’s more pop-influenced than Hill’s previous work.


	7. Insights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a 'formal' note: I'm using a slightly different format this time - I hope it's not an issue for anyone. Thanks for reading, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter :-)

Richard and Sandy were completely unaware of the turmoil they had caused – they had not noticed Camille and Marcus at all, and so they were blissfully ignorant of the effect that their private little dance on the veranda had...

As the music faded and they broke apart, they both smiled a little awkwardly, and then Sandy said “Thanks, Richard. I feel so much better now – but if you don’t mind, I’d rather not go back inside just yet. I’m afraid I’m not feeling up to facing the music rightaway again – no pun intended! I – I think I’ll sit here for a few more minutes, if that’s okay with you?”

Richard was secretly relieved. On one hand, that dance had been pleasant, really… it had helped to ease the pain about Camille’s indifference towards him a little, and he had been right about Sandy not being the kind of person who’d try to get indecently close. He had forgotten how nice it could be to hold someone… and he had felt comfortable because he knew he’d be safe with her.

But on the other hand, as paradoxical as it might appear… he had had difficulties stopping himself from wishing that the situation was different and it was Camille whom he was holding, not Sandy – which would have been an entirely different thing… and not safe at all.

And that really wasn’t fair on Sandy.

It wouldn’t have been fair on anyone, for that matter. He had been second best so often in his life, he knew how awful that felt. No doubt she had wished he was Marcus, though – so he didn’t feel overly guilty, but still… it was somewhat awkward.

He didn’t want to drag out this scenario, so he just nodded, touched her arm sympathetically for a split second and went to the other side of the veranda, down the steps and into the garden.

Unbeknown to him, Sandy’s eyes followed him until he had disappeared in the darkness. Then she sat down and looked thoughtfully at his initials in the corner of the handkerchief he had given her – this evening was a turning point for her, and she knew she’d have to act.... but before she made a move, she’d have to find clarity. What did she really want? She knew it in her heart, but she had to make up her mind as well… then she could go her own way, without looking back or regretting anything. One thing was sure, though – she didn’t want to suffer any longer.

Richard wanted to be by himself for a moment to muster up the energy to go back inside so he could say his goodbye to the Commissioner and the rest of them. The evening was over for him, and he just wanted to get away from the party. He didn’t want to spend more time on watching Camille having fun with someone else. If he had needed any further proof for her being out of his league, he had found it tonight… This folly had to end. It wasn’t healthy to wish for things you couldn’t have… He should be glad that they were friends and leave it at that.

He knew it wouldn’t be acceptable to just disappear – that would be interpreted as downright rude, and the Pattersons would feel snubbed. Neither could he afford to do that in his position, nor did he want it – he just needed a few minutes. And it would be much better if Sandy and he entered the scene separately again, anyway. He didn’t know how many people – and who – had noticed their exit, but he hoped that it hadn’t been too many. He wasn’t sorry about what had happened – he had done the right thing, he was sure about that, but he could just imagine the gossip, so for everyone’s sake he hoped it wouldn’t get blown up out of proportion.

In the meantime, Camille and Marcus were standing behind a curtain that was half covering the veranda door and hence hiding them from prying eyes, and trying to process what they had just seen. Camille’s head was whirling. She felt all sorts of things at the same time – but the most prominent emotions were hurt and pain – and burning, raging jealousy, along with the feeling of loss.

Richard had never ever danced with her – you couldn’t really count that half minute at Solly’s wake over a year ago – and he had always claimed he didn’t dance. She had just assumed that he felt uncomfortable with it.

So, eventually she had just more or less given up on the idea of dancing with him – at previous events that they had both attended, he had never set foot near the dance floor, neither with her nor with anybody else – she had concluded it was just something that wouldn’t ever happen. That hadn’t stopped her from wishing it was different, teasing him and trying to persuade him, though. He had remained steadfast, and she had kept trying. It had been like a ritualised game – only that she felt now that she had lost already rightaway as he had been leading her on from the start. He had actually never wanted to dance with her. She hadn’t stood a chance.

But why?

It did not occur to her that he might feel self-conscious and inadequate about it as he was just an average dancer – at best - while she obviously was very experienced and so uninhibited about moving and ‘shaking her body’, as he liked to call it.

Everything physical seemed to come to her naturally – while for him, it was always a struggle. She had noticed that he’d accept her helping him with his jacket, and he also let her brush dust off his face, but she obviously knew that physical contact was not so much his thing.

So if he chose to initiate it, then it had to mean something. Consequently, to her the fact that he had danced with Sandy appeared to make it clear that he felt more comfortable with her and didn’t mind at all getting physically close to her – apparently, he even enjoyed it! - while he obviously couldn’t stand her – Camille’s - nearness. She remembered how reluctant he had been to lie down next to her in the weather station and how stiff his reaction to her hug had been when he had left for London a while ago. So, perhaps that was why… And she had thought he was only being shy…

Maybe it had been wrong to turn to him and visit him more regularly lately. Maybe he found that bothersome, but didn’t say anything because he didn’t know how to stop her from imposing. After all, they worked together, and he wouldn’t want to ruin the working atmosphere, either.

Humiliation washed over her, mixed with disappointment, hurt and anger, and she felt the stinging of the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She had enjoyed dancing with Marcus, it had been so good to dance with someone who knew the steps and was in sync with her, but it had all been about the movement, the excitement of the rhythm, the feeling of being alive. And she knew that Marcus had felt the same way – there wasn’t anything between them but friendship and the understanding that comes from knowing one another for many years. She liked him as a friend, and she cared for him, but her feelings didn’t go any deeper than that.

Dancing a slow dance with someone special… that was a whole different thing. That was something intimate and personal. Something that she didn’t want with just anyone. She had waited out the slower dances – there had been only very few this evening, and so it hadn’t been obvious that she hadn’t been on the dance floor then.

Against all odds, she had secretly hoped that Richard would ask her for one of those slow dances, but her hope had been in vain…

She had wanted to show him she was made of flesh and blood, and he needn’t be afraid of her. And she realised now that she had hoped it would pave the way for their friendship to be taken to another level… He had been so relaxed recently that she had hoped it would perhaps happen tonight… and maybe he would even let her drive him home and they’d have a chance to get a bit closer. Well, no such luck. Instead, he had chosen to dance with someone else, and a big part of her world had become a shambles.

She inhaled sharply and blinked back the tears, then turned around and looked at Marcus – his eyes were still widened in astonishment and apparent shock. It seemed that a number of cogwheels had started to move in his head, and Camille heard him saying something like “I can’t believe it” and “but why” – and a few other incoherent things. She understood that he was just as aghast as she was and forced herself to calm down. For heaven’s sake, she was a professional, she had worked undercover, she had commendations for bravery – she wouldn’t lose her head because of this.

Marcus obviously didn’t have these resources to fall back on – he was on the verge of storming outside again and throwing a fit… or whatever. Camille knew that if she didn’t stop him, he’d cause an upsetting scene, and she couldn’t let him do that, so she took a deep breath and stepped right on his foot with her stiletto heel. “Ouch!” He felt her hand clap over his mouth and looked at her reproachfully. It was a good thing that the music was fairly loud so it wasn’t likely that people had heard him, but Camille wanted to play it safe, anyway. He understood the plea in her eyes and nodded slowly, and she took her hand away.

“What the hell are you doing, Camille?” He asked it in a low, but clearly agitated voice. “Bringing you back to your senses, you idiot,” she hissed. “You are not going to go outside and make a big scene, Marcus – if you do that, you’ll cause a scandal, and this evening will end in disgrace. Your aunt and uncle haven’t deserved this, and neither has anyone else. They’re all having fun. Don’t spoil it. Behave like a big boy and do what you’ve got to do – play the game until the evening is over, and when everybody has left, you’re free to do whatever you want to do.”

He stared at her, then nodded slowly again. He didn’t seem capable of doing much else at this point.

Camille looked at him quizzically. “You had no idea that you love her, huh?” Marcus still was in a daze, but at least he could speak fairly coherently now. He shook his head and said “No, I really didn’t. She was always just David’s little sister. I mean, I’ve always liked her, from the start, and I feel comfortable around her and everything. We can talk about – well, whatever…”

His voice trailed off. Then he continued “I can be myself with her. She’s understanding, and she’s not… well, most women seem to be competitive – she’s not. She’ll listen to you and… We’ve been out a couple of times, just as friends, together with David and Erin or others, never just the two of us… and I guess… I don’t know, I just thought she’d always be there. I hadn’t seen her in a while until David came up with asking her about the practice, and when she showed up to discuss things with us, it was just as if we had never been apart. You know how they say you don’t know what you have until you lose it… I mean, since we’ve been here on Saint Marie, things have shifted a bit, and I have noticed she was a bit more aloof, but I wouldn’t have thought she’d ever… I mean… turn to someone else. And it’s like… you know, as if I’ve never seen her the way she really is before. Doesn’t make much sense, but well…”

A bitter laugh came from Camille. That’s how it can go, she thought. She pulled herself together, though, and touched Marcus’s shoulder in a gesture of compassion. Her own worries could wait – it seemed that he couldn’t get to grips with the situation as it presented itself, and someone had to put it into context for him.

“Marcus, who knows if turning to someone else is what she just did. It might be totally different… Things are not always what they seem. You don’t know what she really feels – and I don’t think she knows what she means to you. You’ve never told her how you feel as you didn’t have a clue yourself. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions now.”

Now wait, wasn’t that what Richard always said? That she shouldn’t jump to conclusions? How ironic. He’d be proud of her trying to be rational for once… She shook off the thought and continued “I think you should let her be for the moment. She’ll come back inside eventually, I’d suggest you just behave as if nothing happened, and then you can sort things out tomorrow during the hike. I’m sure that Erin and David will appreciate if you give them the chance to do the hike at their own pace – Erin has all the maps and the guide, she’ll find the way without any help, she’s an experienced hiker, after all. And you can talk to Sandy then – go at a slower pace with her, try to explain how you feel… you’ll see, that’s much better than making a scene now.” He nodded mutely in agreement.

“I’ll go inside now – promise me you’ll follow in a few seconds, okay?” Her voice was gentle, although she felt that she wanted to throttle him. Men – they really made a mess of everything, and then they were surprised when things went down in flames around them.

She returned inside and tried to mingle again with the other guests. She had only been absent for a few minutes, so with a little luck, nobody had paid attention and missed her.

However, her reappearance didn’t go unnoticed. Fidel nudged Juliet and said “Look, there’s Camille – she looks as if she’s just seen a ghost.”

“I guess it’s worse than that,” said Dwayne from behind them.

Juliet turned around and shot him an inquiring look. “What do you mean, Dwayne?” “Oh, nothing, really – just that she has seen the Chief doing a rumba with Sandy Neville… and I don’t think she liked that so much. I saw them through the window – had to do a quick turnaround so Mrs Aniston didn’t see them. Would have gossiped. Couldn’t compromise the Chief like that, you know...” he explained when he saw the raised eyebrows around him.

Fidel was stunned into silence, and Juliet let out a gasp. “I thought he doesn’t dance?” Fidel finally remarked feebly. “Well, that’s what everyone thought. I guess we were wrong!” was Dwayne’s reply. He added “I never thought the Chief was such a womanizer – the two most amazing single women on the island are competing to win him over, as it seems. How does he do that? Still waters run deep, huh!”

Juliet couldn’t help but laugh about Dwayne’s incredulous countenance – it was indeed priceless. Then she said with a contemplative frown “You know, Dwayne, I wouldn’t really call him a womanizer, but he does have his qualities. He’s intelligent, he’s even good-looking in his own way, if you like that type, his eyes are actually stunning,” - Juliet deliberately ignored her husband’s raised eyebrows at this point – “and he’s a gentleman. He might be awkward at times, and I will admit I thought he was really odd at first, but once you get to know him, he’s kind and thoughtful, and he will not hurt people intentionally – although he has an acerbic wit, I think… Anyway. I wonder what’s behind all this. Whatever it is, Camille shouldn’t be surprised – she has literally hurled herself at Marcus over the past weeks – it was Marcus here, and Marcus there, wasn’t it – at least Fidel said so.” She shot a glance at her husband who nodded in confirmation.

“If the Chief has feelings for her – and it wouldn’t surprise me if he did, given the way they argue sometimes - this might have completely discouraged him. He doesn’t have a whole lot of self-confidence to begin with, I think, at least not when it comes to things outside his job, and Marcus might be nice, but he can also be quite intimidating and dominant, and if you feel you have to compete with him, nearly any man I know would feel disheartened. And then again, look at Sandy Neville – she and the Chief really hit it off, so why shouldn’t he dance with her when the occasion arises? He didn’t have much of a chance here inside with everyone dancing their legs off when he’s not a very confident dancer.”

Fidel looked at her in awe and said “Wow, Juliet – that sounds just about right. How do you know all that? You haven’t even met the Chief all that often!” Then he scratched his head and continued “I hope that Camille sees it the same way and understands what’s going on. It seems she has become quite fond of the Chief, and you know what a pest she can be if things don’t go her way. If they don’t work this out rather quickly, work will turn into a nightmare – I don’t even want to think about it.”

“And I thought this would be a dead boring evening – how wrong I was,” Dwayne observed. “Oh, look, there’s the Chief! I’m curious to see what will happen now.”

Richard had just entered the room again through one of the veranda doors. He was totally oblivious to the drama that had happened – like most of the other guests, actually. The majority of people hadn’t noticed at all what had happened. Those who had, though, were seriously shaken in one way or another.

Marcus had come in again right after Camille, and Sandy Neville had re-appeared as well – but left again very quickly. She had approached Erin and David first, then she had taken Erin to one side and whispered something in her ear. Erin seemed to hesitate, then she gave David a hint, the three of them put their heads together, and eventually David nodded, touched Sandy’s arm and smiled at her.

Sandy then sought out Mrs Patterson and the Commissioner and talked to them briefly – she smiled and obviously exchanged friendly phrases with the hosts, then the Commissioner patted her shoulder, his wife even gave her a hug, and then… Sandy was gone. She had taken the time to nod in their direction, but didn’t come to their table. It seemed she was a little uneasy – “I bet she said she feels tired,” Dwayne mused. “Or sick. Or exhausted. Or…” “Oh, just stop it, Dwayne,” Fidel snapped.

Whatever Sandy had said, it remained private. On her way out, she passed Camille and Marcus as well – she nodded to both of them, but didn’t stop to make conversation with them. Marcus looked crestfallen, Camille seemed concerned. Juliet nudged Fidel and whispered “Watch it, he looks like he’s about to say something – I bet he has seen them, too, and now he’s confused because he thought every woman on the island was after him. He took her for granted, that’s obvious. He’s a bit too self-assured, and this has clearly dampened his spirits… Oh, it serves him right to be outdone by the Chief!”

She giggled gleefully, and Fidel looked at her indignantly. Dwayne laughed and said “Seems like the Chief really is a womanizer after all, Fidel – and it’s not only single women who are after him, your own wife has fallen for him, too!” Fidel turned around to Dwayne and punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Hey, hold your tongue, old rogue!” he admonished him jokingly.

They all laughed, then Dwayne jostled Fidel a little, and as Richard approached them and asked “Now, what’s so funny? Or is this a private joke?”, they hastened to say it was nothing, just some banter, and it would be too cumbersome to explain it in detail. Richard eyed them suspiciously, but didn’t probe any deeper. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were laughing about, anyway.

“Well, whatever,” he said and stifled a yawn, teetering slightly back and forth on his feet. “I guess that’s it for me tonight.” He noticed that Camille had joined the little group. “Would you like me to drive you home?” she asked. Her voice sounded somewhat forced, as he noticed, but he didn’t comment on it. Maybe she was tired from all her wild dancing, he thought a little spitefully.

With a neutral voice, he answered “Ah, no, thank you, Camille, I’m fine. I have already called a cab. Easier for everyone, you know. I figured you might like to stay a little longer, so I didn’t even bother to ask. You’re having so much fun, and I didn’t want to disrupt you, so… erm… I hope you’ll enjoy the remainder of the evening, but I really have to go now.”

She responded “Very well. Good night to you then!” He noticed the slightly tense undertone, but dismissed it, mistaking it for general edginess. So, he gave a brief nod and went off to find the Commissioner and his wife, so he could disappear gracefully and for good.

His cab pulled up just a few minutes later, and he sat back with a sigh. Ah, that had been an entertaining but also somewhat difficult evening. He was glad to be on his own now. The taxi driver already knew him and didn’t make the mistake of trying to involve him in any kind of inane chit-chat. So, Richard had the chance to doze off for a bit, and when they arrived at his house, he just thanked and paid the driver, not forgetting to give him a decent tip – he knew that he’d need him again some time, so he shouldn’t be stingy.

As he entered his shack, Harry the lizard skittered over the kitchen floor. “Oh hello – had a good time without me? Well, I hope you had fun. As for myself, it’s been quite a crazy evening, old boy,” Richard said to the little green fellow, took off his jacket and began to brew himself a pot of tea. “You know what, it’s a good thing that you didn’t bother to go. You would have shaken your head in confusion… I wonder what Sandy Neville will do now. It’s hard to see someone everyday you’re hopelessly in love with who doesn’t notice you in that particular way. I know from experience.”

He figured that Harry wasn’t exactly a chatterbox, so his secret was safe with him. “I wish I could have danced with Camille instead of Sandy, you know. I wonder what that would have felt like – but there was no way I could have competed with Marcus or David or any of the other men in the room, as far as dancing goes, that is… and I would only have made her look silly – so why bother…”

Harry gave him a disgusted look and zoomed off. Richard had a feeling that the lizard had seen right through him and understood that it had been more a matter of not knowing how to go about the whole thing and having been too cowardly to ask her… not to mention the fear that maybe he wouldn’t have managed to hide his real feelings for her… and heaven only knew what her reaction would have been. Or he would have spoilt it all by being too stiff and pompous – as he usually was when he was insecure. It would have been an awkward situation… so the whole thing should remain where it was safely hidden: in the realm of his dreams. Still, it hurt, and the feeling of inferiority and inadequacy was overwhelming, but it would pass again. It always did…

He shook his head glumly and said “Can’t deceive you, huh? Well, I don’t even believe it myself, you’re absolutely right... And you know, she looked fabulous, ravishing, sexy, stupendous… and… and well, look at me… who am I, after all? Just an old boring bachelor. I just chickened out once again. Didn’t really stand a chance, anyway. Story of my life, I guess.”

With that, he changed into his pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt, checked on the tea and went outside on the veranda. He just sat there, sipped his tea and enjoyed the sound of the surf. To be honest, he really liked this aspect of life in the Caribbean – but he wasn’t quite ready to admit it yet.

He replayed the most remarkable events of the evening in his head and came to the conclusion that he hadn’t made any extremely daft mistakes, as far as he could see it. One thing was sure, though – he had enough of the “I’m saving the damsel in distress” scenario for a while. Turned out that he had never thought it through to the end, otherwise he would have avoided it like the plague. It had panned out well, but that was mostly because Sandy Neville was such a sensible woman and hadn’t burst into tears. Or thrown herself at him and called him her saviour. You never knew with women… He didn’t even want to imagine how differently it all could have developed if he had had to deal with a less reasonable person.

She definitely was a lovely woman, and he really, really liked her and wished her well, but he couldn’t supply a solution for her problems. He wasn’t exactly a relationship guru himself… But he could see clearly now that she had run away from the truth for way too long. One way or another, she’d need to make a decision now, and he didn’t envy her one bit. He understood her position – much better than he cared to admit – and he knew in his heart that he, too, would have to make a decision at some point… but he didn’t want to think about it right now. Change was not his thing, anyway. Maybe he could avoid it, after all. Life was okay the way it was going now. If only it wasn’t so hot and humid… Ah well. You had to take the good with the bad – and all that… A plethora of common truisms came to his mind, and he found comfort in their generic banality.

It had actually been a fun evening in some respects, but still… he hoped that this had been the last major get-together for a while. Erin had told him that they were all going to leave for Antigua on Sunday afternoon – she had made contact with a real estate agent there, and they wanted to check out what was available there and make a decision based on that eventually.

That sounded good to Richard – at least it would mean that he’d have peace again, if only for a while. Maybe, with some luck, Camille would resume her visits with him – provided she hadn’t decided that he was indeed too dull and she’d rather return to spending her evenings at her mother’s bar. He hoped she’d show up some time after the weekend - that would be nice, he thought. Maybe they could still be friends after all… She had kissed him the other day, hadn’t she, so that had to mean something. Or did it? He sighed. He wished he knew what to think… He never was sure with her…

Well, one thing was sure, though: it had been an exhausting fortnight, and as far as he was concerned, it was about time to get back to normal and routine. Like doing laundry – he knew a pile of that was waiting for him tomorrow.

And with this, he decided it was bedtime for him, so he finished his tea, got ready for bed, and shortly after his head had touched the pillow, he was off in dreamland.


	8. What now?

As it sometimes happens when a few guests leave a party, it can be contagious – so more people decided that it was time to go, and the party fizzled out shortly after Richard’s departure.

Erin and David were the first ones to retire – they had to drive a little distance to get to the beach resort where they had booked a suite, so they had a good excuse. They asked if they could get changed in the guesthouse so they didn’t have to drive all the way in their evening clothes – their luggage was sitting there, anyway. The Pattersons were sad to see them leave, but they would be back tomorrow evening for a family dinner, so the goodbye wasn’t for too long. They made the rounds, thanked everyone for coming – Erin had remembered in time that as ‘guest of honour’ she couldn’t just disappear…- and then left.

Within the following twenty minutes, several other guests followed their example. The Commissioner thanked Camille and the team for coming, and Mrs Patterson remarked “Too bad that the Inspector had to leave a little early. He’s such a polite man. A bit too formal sometimes, but at least he left his tie at home tonight… I would have liked to chat with him a little more in detail. But well, there’ll be more chances in the future, I reckon. I hope he had a good time. He seemed a bit tired, didn’t he, Camille?”

Camille’s voice was slightly brittle as she said “Oh, the Inspector isn’t used to having long evenings out, I think. He’s an early bird, you know, so I think it’s only logical that he runs out of steam a little earlier. I’m sure, though, that this doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the evening, madam.”

She exchanged more niceties with everyone, cracked a few jokes with Dwayne, Fidel and Juliet, and tried to avoid thinking about what she had seen on the veranda. As she said goodbye to Marcus, she hugged him and said under her breath “Keep me posted on how things pan out with Sandy. I wish you all the best.” Aloud, she reminded him to send her a text message when they’d be back from their volcano hike and let her know where and when they’d meet up for their farewell on Sunday.

“Aren’t you going with them for the hike?” Fidel asked casually as they left the premises together. He had overheard the brief conversation with Marcus. “I thought you had been so excited to go again?”

“Oh, no… it won’t work out. Well, as it is… Maman reminded me that I had promised to help her out with something tomorrow, so I had to cancel it,” lied Camille. “And after all… it doesn’t really matter, I can always go again whenever I want to while they obviously want to take the opportunity and go this weekend. They’re not sure when they’ll all be together here again, and the weather forecast looks good, so why not take advantage of that… Marcus knows the way, and I’m sure they’ll have a good time, anyway.”

Juliet yawned. “I hope Rosie will be fast asleep when we get home,” she said. “I don’t feel like spending another few hours on getting her back to bed – that happened recently when we were out, and boy, was I shattered the next day.” “So was I,” said Fidel. “And I had to go to work – that was when I was fighting not to fall asleep at my desk – you might remember that day, Camille! Thanks for backing me up and not letting the Chief notice it!” She laughed and patted his back. “No worries, Fidel – we all have days like that! Want me to take you all home? The Chief took a cab, so I have the car and can make the round.”

They were happy to save the money for the taxi, so they all hopped in the Rover, and Camille drove them home. Fidel and Juliet sat in the back – Camille had to bite her lip when she saw in the rear mirror how Juliet’s head sank on Fidel’s shoulder and a tender smile appeared on his face. He had to wake her when they reached their house. They got off, waved a brief goodbye, and disappeared in the dark.

Dwayne was last - when she stopped in front of his place, he put his hand on her arm and asked with a concerned voice “Everything okay with you, Camille? You seem a bit out of sorts… if I can help, just let me know.” Camille was sorely tempted to confide in him and nearly broke down, but managed a smile and said “I’m just tired, Dwayne. But thank you, I appreciate that.” It wouldn’t really help to dump her worries on his doorstep, anyway, she reasoned. So, why bother…

He nodded briefly, got out of the car and waved as she drove off. He knew very well that she hadn’t told him the truth. He was no fool – he had noticed the increasing affection between her and the Chief, and that dance had obviously shaken her up. Dwayne wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think that Sandy Neville was more than a friend to the Chief – they seemed to get on well, but when he was with her, his eyes never sparkled the way they did when he was with Camille.

Admittedly, sometimes that sparkling came from Camille provoking him and driving him crazy. But he seemed to like it… and very often they didn’t only exchange angry glances, but also genuinely warm smiles, and Dwayne had seen how the Chief looked at Camille when he thought nobody noticed. Camille had also stolen glances in the Chief’s direction regularly, so something was going on there. It was beyond him what exactly Camille saw in him, but that was none of his business. The Chief was a nice enough chap, and he deserved to be happy – as far as that was possible for someone who was apparently uptight and cranky by default.

He grinned and recalled how peeved Fidel had been when he had remarked that apparently even Juliet had fallen for the Chief – that had been too funny. Those two were such a nice pair, and Rosie was a sweet little girl… he was sure that she’d have a little brother or sister rather sooner than later, given the amorous, meaningful glances that Fidel and Juliet had exchanged this evening. They truly were in love… and they weren’t afraid of showing it.

With these observations on his mind, he turned around and unlocked the door to his place. This had been an interesting evening, indeed… He yawned, stripped off his shirt and made a few dancing steps. As nice as the evening had been – he still preferred the street festivals! Less formal and easier to navigate…

Camille gritted her teeth as she drove home. Now that she was alone, the unwelcome thoughts came back to torment her. Well, this evening had not gone the way she had hoped. No, not at all… It had been so much fun at first, but then she had seen Richard dancing with Sandy, and everything had fallen apart.

And Marcus – how useless he had been when he had seen them… As if he had been the only one in the world who just had been blindsided with some home truths! He hadn’t even noticed, let alone acknowledged her feelings… and she knew that he was aware of the fact that Richard was more than just “the Chief” to her. She had made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about that topic, and he had drawn the only possible conclusion – that Richard was more important to her than she wanted to admit.

So – he knew, and yet he had not wasted a single thought on how she might feel. It was just him and his feelings for Sandy. Selfish git. She was totally appalled by his self-centredness. But then, it shouldn’t have surprised her. They had fallen out over similar scenarios during their teenage years as well. He just tended to think that the world revolved around him when he was in some kind of difficult situation. This hadn’t changed…

And Richard hadn’t been any better… She had thought she’d seen an appreciative glint in his eyes when he had seen her in her new dress. It had given her hope, and she had been sure that she’d finally have a chance to get a little further with him….

She really wanted to cross that bridge with him – she knew that now. She hadn’t been entirely sure about what she wanted for a while, but the past two weeks had made it absolutely clear to her – she wanted to be the woman by his side and share his life, ups and downs… and anything in between.

It had been painful to see her influence waning – it had appeared to her that he was turning away from her… and she couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him with someone else. She had made the mistake of taking him for granted and believing that there was no competition, and nobody could hold a candle to her… and he’d succumb to her charms eventually, as if there was no other way... She had been way too self-assured…

But not only had he spent hours on end getting lost in long conversations with Sandy over the past two weeks, he hadn’t really talked to her – Camille - all evening tonight, either… and he hadn’t had anything better to do than buzzing off with Sandy and dancing with her… that slow, tender dance that she had wanted to have with him. She had wanted to be the one he’d hold, she had wanted to be the one who’d feel his heart beat, the touch of his hands, and the nearness of his body…

But no, he had run off with HER... And afterwards, he had behaved as if nothing ever had happened. Traitorous twit that he was… “May he be eaten by the monsters that lurk under his bed,” she thought vindictively.

Men! Love! Friendship! Bah, humbug… She bit her lip and blinked quickly. After the rage came the tears, she knew it would be that way…

Although it was hard not to cry, Camille managed to get home, park the car and get inside the house before she finally gave in. She made it to her bedroom, but then it hit her, and the tears came. Slowly at first, then in rivers. Her shoulders heaved, her breath was ragged. Sobbing, she took off the beautiful dress that she had put on with a hopeful heart only a few hours ago. She wasn’t sure if she could wear it again any time soon… if ever… ah well, she didn’t have to decide on that now – she’d put it on a hanger – somewhere out of sight - for the moment. She’d have to have it dry-cleaned, but after that she’d just let it disappear into the back corner of her closet, maybe the pain would go away some time, and she’d put it on again eventually…

For a few minutes she clung to her bedroom’s door frame, crying her heart out – then trying to suppress the tears, taking deep breaths… and finally regaining her self control. Then, with heavy steps, she went to the bathroom, carefully took off her ruined make up and gently brushed her hair, closing her eyes and focusing on each single stroke. It helped her to calm down a little, as she noticed with some relief.

This had not been the best evening of her life, but she’d be damned if she’d let anybody know. She was strong, she’d get through this. “After all, tomorrow is another day,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror, her eyes wide open, her expression vulnerable, but determined. She realised with a crooked smile that she sounded like Scarlett O’Hara, but whatever – she didn’t care. She needed to sleep now, and maybe things really would look differently tomorrow.

Completely against her habits, she took a sleeping pill – she didn’t want to spend the night wide awake, tossing and turning – that helped her to sleep deep and without any dreams disturbing her… until her mobile phone buzzed insistently and woke her. She checked the time – 4.15 a.m. Good grief, what was the matter? Groggily, she picked it up.

It was Marcus.

“Camille, she’s not here,” he exclaimed. “Who?” Camille asked, too tired to be upset.

“Sandy. She’s not in her room. I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to talk to her, and… “

Camille groaned. “Marcus, didn’t I say that you should wait until tomorrow? What has possessed you to go and try to talk to her in the middle of the night?”

“I thought I could… I mean…” His voice sounded desperate and forlorn. This had obviously rattled him quite a bit. What an idiot he was…

“Are you completely out of your mind? Chances are that nothing good would come of that, anyway. It’s better to sleep on it and wait a little instead of discussing things in a frenzy. It’s never good to have a go at each other in the heat of the moment… Have you checked with Erin and David? Maybe she went with them?”

“Oh. Wait.” Silence. “There’s a text message.” More silence. Then Marcus said in an embarrassed, small voice “I’m sorry, Camille. You were right. She went with them to the hotel. Said it was my aunt’s idea – would be more appropriate than the two of us being alone in the guest house. They’ll come to pick me up tomorrow at 7.30 for the volcano hike.”

Camille cursed inwardly, but she tried to remain calm and composed as she said “Right. Sounds good to me. Look, Marcus, try to sleep a little now, and I’m sure it will all clear up tomorrow. Don’t assume the worst, don’t work yourself into a horrible mood – and don’t give her the silent treatment, pick a fight or come up with all sorts of silly accusations. Act like the intelligent man that you usually are. Just remember, you don’t know what’s going on, so don’t make assumptions, don’t jump to conclusions, and, for heaven’s sake, tread lightly when you ask her what’s the matter. If you’re open and understanding, all will turn out well…”

“Um. Yes. Thanks, Camille. I’m sorry again. I shouldn’t have called. I just didn’t know what to do… Good night, and we’ll be in touch!”

“Good night, Marcus.”

She shook her head as she put down the phone. Men, really... They claimed to be intelligent beings, they had academic degrees, they did important things like healing others or solving crimes. But they were totally useless in real life. Camille was not in a friendly mood at this point…

So, what now?

She figured it might be a good idea to try and just take one step after another – this was a tried and tested strategy. She tried not to look at the mountain ahead of her, but divide the way to the top into small, manageable distances.

What was the next step?

She admittted that this night was over. There was no way she’d be able to go back to sleep at this point. So, she got up to make herself some coffee. She gave a little whimper as she switched on the light in her kitchen – her head was a mess. Perhaps the sleeping pill had not been a good idea after all…

After she had gulped down the coffee, she stepped in the shower. She closed her eyes and tried to let the water take away her worries. To no avail, though – unwelcome bits and pieces of thoughts and memories invaded her mind and all got jumbled around – like pieces of a puzzle that had fallen off the surface or out of the box.

Upon trying to put the pieces together, it dawned on her that her own actions had perhaps contributed to Richard’s seemingly selfish behaviour… and it had all culminated yesterday night. Not only had she spent so much time with Marcus and his gang that she couldn’t visit Richard any more, she had also almost forced him to come to the bar and chat with Sandy all the time. And after all, yesterday night, she had danced with David and Marcus all evening long. She hadn’t really taken the time to talk to Richard, apart from the short exchanges while they had eaten their food.

She had been in a state of euphoria, almost as if she had had too much to drink and got intoxicated… She had been living in the moment… The music and the dancing had been like a drug, and she had completely forgotten that there was a world outside the dance floor. She had not noticed how time had flown by, and with each dance she had done with the others, she had driven Richard away.

She remembered how he had once said that he didn’t dance - “awkward, you know, and not much practice,” – accompanied by his famous lopsided smile that she found so charming. Then she recalled how small and stupid she had felt when Sandy had praised Richard’s knowledge and talents at the garden party. She had clearly not been playing in the same league like Richard and Sandy, and she had felt left out.

Maybe, Richard had felt the same way when he had seen her dancing with Marcus and David. And Sandy, too – Camille suddenly realised that she had hardly seen her dancing.

“Shame on me”, Camille thought as she understood that it had been a hodgepodge of different reasons that had led to the horror scenario yesterday night, and that she wasn’t as innocent as she had thought she was. Maybe she had drawn all the wrong conclusions. Maybe it wasn’t about not wanting her and avoiding physical contact to her, after all. Maybe Richard had turned to Sandy because he felt that he couldn’t compete with Marcus? Or maybe it was something entirely different.

Whatever it was, she did not want to lose him – as a friend or whatever he was in her life. She wanted peace and some sort of continuity. It had been hard to leave her friends in France, and it had been traumatic to lose Aimee – she couldn’t cope with another loss just yet.

And how was she supposed to keep doing good work at the police station if she and Richard weren’t on friendly terms any more? So, it was vital to sort things out and make sure that they’d continue to get on well. And once that was settled, they could move their relationship to another level. She was willing to fight for it.

A glance at the clock in her bathroom showed her that it was just a little past 5 a.m. now. In half an hour the sun would rise, and she could go for a run. That would help her to clear her head and feel like a human being again. Everything else would have to wait. She’d just get moving, switch off her brain and run. Later, she would have breakfast – and then she’d sort out the mess and find answers to her questions.

Determinedly, she shut down the shower, toweled her hair and then tied it up before brushing her teeth, putting on her running gear and getting ready for the day. She hopped up and down in her living room a couple of times to get her body prepared for the exercise, and at exactly 5.45 a.m., she closed the door to her house and started her run.

***********

At the same time, Richard was turning over in his bed and slowly waking up. He was an early riser, and during the week, he was usually up between 5.30 and 6 a.m. Not that he would have needed to get up that early – but partly, it was a habit, left over from his time in Croydon when he had a bit of a commute, and getting up and going to work before the rush set in had been vital for him. And he usually didn’t really sleep much longer on weekends, either. It was just his rhythm.

Here on Saint Marie, he didn’t usually start work before 8.30 – at Croydon, it had been between 7.30 and 8.30. Still, he got up early. Also due to the fact that the frogs that hid somewhere in a waterhole in his shack’s neighbourhood began to croak around his usual alarm time, anyway – whether it was a weekend or not. Impertinent creatures, but what could you do?

He had got used to idling around a little over the past 2 years on the island – he wore his pyjamas for as long as possible and only changed into his suit when he really absolutely had to – which was why Camille had sometimes caught him in his striped night attire.

He had been mortified the first time and had felt the heat of embarrassment flush all through his body – so needless to say he had looked like a match on fire. She had poked fun at him and told him to sleep naked – now, great, that was a prizeworthy idea… then she’d catch him without clothes the next time she was early. No way was he going to let that happen. But he had switched to a T-shirt in general, usually in combination with his pyjama bottoms, or sometimes boxers now as it really, truly was very hot with the pyjamas. Made ironing less cumbersome, too – the T-shirts were a lot easier to take care of. His pyjamas just didn’t ‘feel’ right if he didn’t iron them.

At around 6.30, he finally decided that it was time to get up. It had been a bit of an odd night, with strange dreams that had left him a bit shaken, but at least he hadn’t had any bouts of sleepnessness. Still, it was good that he’d have a day to himself today – as he had presumed, Marcus and his friends had planned to hike the volcano trail, and he had successfully fended off all attempts to talk him into joining them. No way would he repeat that hike – once again, he shuddered at the thought of all the snakes, spiders and what-not lurking in the bushes, just waiting to pounce on him.

Sure, that wasn’t a very manly attitude, but he was a city person, and wildlife was pretty much beyond his horizon. In the UK, it was different, of course. He was familiar with what was creeping around there. And of course, a nicely landscaped park or a somewhat looked after forest – as you could find in the civilised world – that was lovely, too. But the primeval, unruled flora and fauna over here definitely took some getting used to…

He took a shower and got dressed and then had a slow and extended breakfast – with an entire pot of delicious hot tea and the book about the Lesser Antilles that he had bought a while ago. It was interesting, but he had to put it aside after a while – there was housework to do. He sighed. It never seemed to end, and although he kept the shack as tidy as possible (not an easy task, considering all the sand that got in on a daily basis! “Call me Sisyphus,” he thought sarcastically), there were still major things to do that he only had time for on weekends.

So, he collected the dirty laundry bin, turned it upside down and began to sort the pieces that had fallen out. A considerable amount of towels (what an impressive proof of his nightly shower excesses!), dishtowels, bed linen and crumpled handkerchiefs – oh, lovely! – not to mention underwear, T-shirts, socks and other stuff, like polos and casual shirts. That should keep him busy today. He gave his dress shirts and suits to a reliable drycleaner’s that Fidel had recommended, so at least he was rid of that problem – he didn’t mind ironing, but dress shirts could be a bit tricky, and in this hot and humid climate, he was glad to reduce the task to a minimum.

He remembered the dreadful “island-y” shirts he had found in the cupboard when he had moved in – they had belonged to Charlie Hulme who apparently hadn’t been into dressing appropriately for his profession. They had been in perfect condition, but in glaring colours and ghastly patterns, so Richard had given the complete lot of them to charity without hesitating – and he hoped that whoever was wearing them now never found out that their previous owner had been killed off. He could just imagine the superstitious reactions that this revelation would cause – people here had a strange way to interpret things sometimes and saw signs and omens in literally everything. They just accepted that some things happened and didn’t really want any logical or scientific explanations. And then they turned to voodoo – he shook his head in disbelief once again. Completely irrational, definitely…

Not for the first time, Richard marvelled at the apparent happy-go-lucky mentality that people had over here. He knew that this attitude could make life a lot easier – but it was just not how he was wired. He had to investigate, dissect and draw logical conclusions. Puzzle solving. He was good at that. That was a big part of his personality – and in that respect, his job was ideal for him. In other respects, though… not so much. His problem were people. People confused him.

He sighed. What he’d give for being invisible sometimes… But while he could keep up the illusion that it was easy to disappear in the anonymity of a city in the UK, here in the Caribbean, he definitely stood out like a sore thumb, and there was nowhere to hide. He remembered Camille’s remark about how she missed the anonymity of a big city sometimes, too. If she hadn’t told him, he never would have guessed. She seemed to be totally alright with people’s ‘curiosity’. But maybe she wasn’t – maybe she just was good at hiding her real feelings in some respects… by wearing her heart on her sleeve in others. That could be the perfect disguise.

He decided to let go of all those useless ponderings and went on with his housework. With a big basket of laundry, he went to load the washing machine. As he closed the door of the machine and switched it on, he gave it a little pat and said “Don’t let me down this time… I’m running out of towels, and if you fail on me, we’ll be in trouble!” Not that this little pep talk would make any difference to the machine…

Then he turned around and looked at the sand on the floor, the clutter on the kitchen counters that somehow just accumulated, despite his efforts to keep it to a minimum, and the dust bunnies that seemed to have parties in the corners.

Richard remembered how he had met Camille for the first time – she had claimed to be Charlie Hulme’s cleaner and had asked him if perhaps he needed a cleaner now that he occupied Charlie’s shack. He furrowed his brow – he wondered what would have happened if he had said “yes”. She wouldn’t have lasted, and he would have blown her cover even more quickly because... Camille as a cleaner, that was an idea that was just ridiculous.

But then again, maybe she had sensed that he would say “no”. He had always preferred privacy and didn’t want anybody meddling with his affairs – that included that he didn’t want a cleaner. Not to mention that he was so pedantic that no cleaner would have lasted with him…

Oh well. Not for the first time, he wished things around here were more the way like they were back at home… or that he was a bit less nitpicky and could tolerate all this with more equanimity – but although he had mellowed a little (sheer exhaustion, he assumed), a lot of things still really disturbed him. So, he sighed again and began to tackle his task.

Why did everything have to be so hard?


	9. Time to talk

Camille was lost in thought. She assumed she’d hear from Marcus around noon at the earliest. The hike to the volcano and back was about 4 hours, maybe a little longer, and they had to get there in the first place – so if the Nevilles picked him up at around 7.30, give or take a few minutes, they could start the hike at around 8. She hoped he would follow her advice and not let his impulses overwhelm him. It wouldn’t be helpful to have a fit. It never was.

She knew from experience that it was often better not to act spontaneously (often ‘spontaneous’ was the equivalent to ‘childish and immature’, particularly in a situation where feelings had been hurt) – she wouldn’t have survived undercover if she had acted on impulse all the time. Sure, it was necessary to react quickly, sometimes instinctively, and have a couple of tricks on your sleeve, but keeping cool and clear-headed was vital, too.

She realised that her behaviour towards Richard clearly was often childish – but that was because it was so much fun to wind him up, and well… he was childish, too. And they both enjoyed it.

She admitted to herself that she liked to draw him out of his shell – at first it had only been to provoke him, but now it was different. She wanted to get to know the ‘real’ Richard… the person behind the mask. Sometimes he was very entertaining – his deadpan humour was extraordinary, and now that she knew him better, she understood when he was joking – in the beginning she had just thought he was weird.

These days, their conversations went from work stuff over trivial matters to what could pass as ‘personal’. She still loved to tease him, though… Usually, a good old rant was how he ended up revealing more about himself than he intended. But then again, the night at the weather station also had been very enlightening… and he hadn’t ranted then. No, not at all. She had been touched by his honesty when he had spoken about the relationship with his parents. He had shown feelings (other than anger). He had been ‘normal’. And since then, he had been ‘normal’ with her rather often… She wanted more of that…

She closed her eyes and forced herself to get away from thinking about Richard and direct her thoughts towards Marcus and Sandy instead…

Camille figured that most likely Erin and David would give Marcus and Sandy some space during the hike so they could talk. Erin surely had an idea about what was going on – she seemed to be smart and had come up with a few shrewd remarks during the party that had shown Camille that she was very observant.

She had a feeling that Sandy had initiated going to their beach resort with David and Erin – not the Commissioner’s wife – surely she had given him a plausible reason for her wish, even if it had only been a pretext. Camille wondered briefly what that pretext could have been, but then gave up speculating. It was none of her business, anyway. The reason Sandy had mentioned to Marcus definitely was a pretext, though. Mrs Patterson was concerned with propriety, but not to the extent of being hypocritical – David, Sandy and Marcus had stayed in the guesthouse, in separate apartments, and it wasn’t likely that the fact that David was away for a weekend would make much of a difference to the Commissioner and his wife.

From what she knew, there were plans for an ‘extended family dinner’ that night – the Pattersons, Marcus and the Nevilles. So, in order to avoid any embarrassing situations, Marcus would try to settle the situation somehow before dinner.

Camille hoped that all would go well. The idea of having to hold Marcus’s hand – if not for real, then at least figuratively - and provide him with optimistic and comforting phrases didn’t fill her with much enthusiasm. She remembered how he had once had a crush on a girl in his sports club – who had not returned his affections. That had been a very draining situation. Camille had been his ‘mental rubbish bin’, and his endless lamenting had really driven her bonkers. She had been relieved when he had finally got over it – and met someone new eventually…

She didn’t believe in people changing drastically – their core personality would remain the same – it was behaviour patterns that they could control, but beyond that, she didn’t think anybody could really change essentially. So Marcus – who was used to others listening to his ramblings - would most likely dump his woes on her doorstep again if things with Sandy didn’t go according to his wishes.

And of course, Camille had no idea what Sandy’s feelings and thoughts on the matter might be. She never had let her guard slip, so her reaction to Marcus’s revelations might be anything – from shock over indifference to joy – it was just impossible to gauge her reaction.

What if Sandy had fallen for Richard? She knew Richard liked Sandy, and who knew what their mutual affection might lead to… She felt cold all of a sudden.

Yes, she was jealous, and it hurt – admitting that to herself wasn’t easy as it didn’t fit her self-image of the independent, self-confident woman. She had always figured that jealousy was something for insecure people, and so far she had thought herself to be immune against insecurity of that kind. But obviously she wasn’t… she had found out the hard way over the past weeks.

Well, whatever was about to happen – she’d find out soon enough. Marcus would inform her what had come out of the whole thing. One way or another, she would survive, and so would everyone else.

But how would she cope if Richard had really fallen for Sandy, and the feeling was indeed mutual? The thought made her restless. Initially, she had told herself that she was only worried because they were such a good team, and she didn’t want to lose that.

That was the professional aspect of their relationship… however, there was so much more to their connection… she knew now that wanted more from Richard than just a work relationship – and that was the truth, no matter how much she had tried to pretend (even to herself) that it was only friendship that she felt for him.

She had been ‘somehow’ aware of it before, but tried to ignore it… however, last night had been eye-opening, and now she was certain: She wanted to be with him. But would he want to be with her? After all the times she had poked fun at him? After all the teasing? After he had met someone who was beautiful, attentive, intelligent and compliant – like Sandy?

She had to find out…

It was still too early to show up at Richard’s place, though – it wasn’t even 11 a.m. now. At least she felt like a human being again. Her early morning run had refreshed her, and she had pampered herself a little afterwards – washed her hair extensively, put on a super-duper-high-quality-expensive conditioner afterwards, did a peeling, and used a rich scented body butter that was in the same product line as her perfume – before she had changed into comfortable gym shorts and a casual top to have breakfast and do a little housework.

Checking her watch, she decided it couldn’t hurt to visit Maman and see if there was anything she could help her with – after all, she had claimed that she couldn’t go for the hike because her mother wanted her to help out with something, and if Fidel ever asked about the whole thing, she wouldn’t have to lie again.

The truth was that she had already decided before last night that she wouldn’t go for the volcano hike with Marcus and the Nevilles. As soon as she had learnt that Richard wouldn’t go, she realised that she didn’t want to go, either – for several reasons.

The combination of five people on the hike would have been difficult and could have drifted into ‘awkwardsphere’ – Richard was a balancing factor, as unlikely as that would have seemed a few months ago - and the fact that he wouldn’t be there would mean that one person always would be ‘de trop’.

Surprisingly enough, everybody got on well with Richard – once he decided that he’d go for something, he didn’t complain any more – this change in his behaviour had made a huge difference. He still tended to lecture, when given the chance, but he had also learnt to apply his professional skills to private contacts and listened better these days, and Marcus and his group of friends had got accustomed to his (mostly) quiet presence. So, depending on whom he’d choose to chat with most of the time, different groups would form – but with five people, that was a lot more difficult. Erin and David would perhaps want a bit more privacy, so it would have been Marcus, Camille and Sandy – and that could have become rather challenging for all of them.

It wasn’t that Camille didn’t like Sandy or wouldn’t have wanted to get to know her better, but Marcus was used to being the centre of attention, and if Camille or Sandy had tried to have a more private chat, he would have felt left out and made efforts to interfere and interrupt the conversation. That had already happened a few times during evening get-togethers at La Kaz. By the same token, Sandy would have felt left out if Marcus and Camille had gone on about memories, and again, she wouldn’t have liked to be the odd one out, either, if Marcus had chosen to turn to Sandy for the better part of the hike.

So, Richard was an important part of the group dynamics. And Camille admitted to herself that his presence would have given her a chance to spend time with him as well – so, without him, it all seemed a bit pointless.

She sighed and changed into blue shorts and a loose white cotton blouse. Then she set off to see her mother…

*************

Richard spent his morning mostly with housework – that actually was his usual activity on Saturdays. Considering that he hadn’t had much of a chance to take care of chores last weekend, things had piled up a little, and by noon, he was thoroughly fed up with it. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to sit down and read a little in between, so he grabbed a bottle of water and allowed himself to take a break.

Oh… - crumbs! - he had accidentally bought a bottle of carbonated water – the water spattered all over the olive green linen shirt and the black chinos he was wearing. He swore under his breath as he grabbed a teatowel to fend off the worst. Good thing that it was only water! At least it wouldn’t leave any stains…

Out of principle, he didn’t wear fancy trousers and dress shirts any more on weekends. He had decided that while he had to look professional on the job, there was no point in spending his precious spare time bathed in sweat, so he had switched to lighter clothing. It had taken him a little while to accept the less formal look and feel of the new stuff, but as it made things more comfortable, he had not resisted for very long. It made his life a lot easier.

He just wished he had given in earlier – why had he kept wearing suits for so long? Wasn’t it bad enough that he suffered at work, day by day, because he felt he represented the Met and should dress accordingly? Why should he keep up the image during weekends as well? What had the Met done for him, other than transfer him onto this benighted island in the tropics…

In an act of defiance he had decided that he might as well have a slightly easier life and get some lightweight clothes. Much to his surprise, he had realised that he was still the same person, and people greeted him with the same respect when he went grocery shopping in his new clothes. Work was still a different story, but he could live with this compromise.

He sat in his wicker chair and delved into the book that he had started to read during breakfast… Hmm, that was interesting – some of the islands were divided in ‘parishes’ – what an archaic notion. Guadeloupe and the other French islands had ‘arrondissements’, of course. He wrinkled his nose – he might have to make an effort and brush up on his French some time. It would be more helpful around here than his knowledge of Mandarin. He turned page after page, totally engrossed.

Eventually, however, he reached the end of another chapter. He saw that the laundry on the line was almost dry – time to finish his break… He decided to put on some music and get on with the ironing. For housework, he usually preferred pop music these days. It was more zappy. Sometimes, he also put on Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”, though – that was fun, too.

He was humming and singing along to the music (he had grabbed the CD his mother had bought after they had seen the musical “Mamma Mia” together – all rubbish, of course, but it was easy to listen to, and that was just what he needed now… plus, as a bonus, the story was set on a godforsaken island! Heaven only knew why people always wanted to be stuck on a sunny island where it never got cold enough to kill off bugs and other lowlife in the wintertime!), and he was so focused on his ironing that he didn’t hear the sound of the Rover approaching the shack. So Camille had the chance to watch him for a little while without him noticing her.

As she approached his house, she was amazed to hear a clear baritone singing soulfully and with considerable passion – apparently accompanying a singer’s act that was playing somewhere in the background.

Camille couldn’t help but smile – who would have thought that Richard listened to what you could clearly categorize as popular music (albeit ancient), and what was more, that he would sing along so effortlessly… She tiptoed up to the veranda and stood in the doorway with folded arms for a few moments, watching him ironing away with verve and energy, listening to him singing…

When had he loosened up like this? Over all the time she had known him she had never imagined he’d do that. Sure, he had mellowed, and during her visits over the past months, he had sometimes actually been rather relaxed – as far as that was possible for someone like him – and she knew he had a silly streak.

But this… He had always been such an uptight stuffed shirt, and yet… here he was, singing along to one of the most corny songs in the universe.

Well, enough was enough, she decided. It would be better to embarrass him now than drag it out and make it even worse for him in the end.

So, she cleared her throat and said drily “I can’t believe you’re ironing dishtowels.” He turned around quickly, clearly flustered as he saw her. His face turned a nice shade of pink and he switched off the music instantly.

His response, however, came with a remarkably calm and steady voice… he said “It kills germs, you know. It’s the temperature. Also takes away the last trace of moisture. More hygienic than just – erm - washing and taking them off the line.” She just looked at him quizzically, and he explained “I’m never sure if Jezebel really washes at the temperature that I set her to, so I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry, you know. Erm… Jezebel is my washing machine.”

Camille’s lips twitched in amusement. He gave his appliances names – now, that was interesting. He seemed to read her thoughts as he added “I think the name suits her as she’s a bit unpredictable… and it’s more personal to call her by a name when I tell her off, you know.”

That was too much for her – Camille burst out laughing, and much to her delight, he flashed her one of his charming half smiles, clearly pleased with himself for making her laugh.

Her laughter subsided eventually, and she said “I didn’t know you could sing.” “Oh, that…”

The colour in his cheeks got a little darker, and he mumbled something unintelligible – she interrupted him, though, and said softly “And it even sounds nice – you’ve got a really good voice. Isn’t that ABBA?”

“Ah - um… originally, yes. That’s the musical version of ‘Mamma Mia’, though. It’s one of my mother’s favourites, and I quite like it myself, not generally speaking, but when I’m in the mood for it. I find that music helps with ironing. Rachmaninov’s piano concertos are great for that, too – but sometimes a pop song is just – er – more motivating.”

Well, this was clearly a day for surprises, she mused. The visit at her mother’s also had brought some unexpected findings…

He began to worry because she was so quiet – and hastily began to strike up a conversation. He still was a little embarrassed that she had caught him singing, so he wanted to cover it up by talking. He hoped she didn’t think he was completely crackers… But then again, what difference would it make – they’d known each other for a while now…

“Would you like something to drink? I’m afraid I have splashed half of this bottle already… bought carbonated accidentally! – but I can certainly get you a new one… Any particular reason for you to show up on a Saturday – I mean, I’m not – um - complaining, it’s just that you’ve never come here on a weekend so far...”

She turned down his offer to get her a drink. His other question was met with a counterquestion – that came out a little haltingly. “Would you – um - rather be alone? I mean, would you rather not have me coming round on a weekend?” She sounded almost shy. It reminded him of her last visit – she had appeared somewhat bashful back then, too.

He shook his head, trying to hide his surprise, and said “No… You’re welcome at any time.” And he meant it. He was genuinely pleased to see her.

He continued “And I’ve been by myself all day so far, busy with housework – it’s getting a bit old now, and I’m – ah - glad you’re here. But as it is… well, I don’t want to appear inhospitable. However, I’m afraid I have work to do at the moment, so I can’t just sit around with you and – erm – indulge in liming.”

Now, she grinned and looked more again like the Camille he knew. She said “As if you knew how to do it.... although you have become better at it! In any case, I could help you with your laundry, if it’s okay with you. I could fold towels or something. Then you’d be done faster, and we could chat a little – what do you think?”

He was a little bewildered by the situation. What was this about? It was unusual for her to show up on a weekend, and she seemed to be in a shaky mood. But well, with Camille you never knew (come to think of it, she and Jezebel had that in common), and experience told him that it would be best to just wait and see what she’d come up with.

He handed her the pile of towels and elaborated lengthily on how he’d like them to be folded so they’d fit properly onto the bathroom shelf. She said innocently “Wow, that’s an awful lot of towels!” He blushed again. He couldn’t possibly tell her that this pile basically provided evidence of his restless dreams about her - and the more or less futile attempts at trying to ignore his feelings.

In an effort to distract her, he said “I’ll help you later on. You really don’t have to fold them all by yourself! - So, how did the rest of the party go yesterday night? I hope you had a good time altogether!”

She answered “Oh, it didn’t go on for much longer. About half an hour after you had left, I took Dwayne, Fidel and Juliet home – it was just that everyone appeared to be tired, so it seemed pointless to stay on longer.”

Ah, okay… so the wild dancing hadn’t continued. Somehow, that thought set his mind at ease. He didn’t bother to analyse his reasons for this – he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know why he felt relieved.

He returned to his laundry basket and saw that there was only one more dishtowel, and then he could call it quits and fold the towels with her.

“And how was the hike to the volcano today?” It was already past 4 in the afternoon, and as he knew the appointed start had been around 8 a.m., he figured they must have returned around noon or a little later than that. He just assumed she had spent the time until now at home, relaxing and getting a little rest. Of course she was fitter than him and more adapted to the climate, so he knew she’d recover from the exertion much quicker than he ever could.

He was surprised when she said “I didn’t go.” He looked at her in astonishment as he took the last dishtowel and laid it out on the ironing board.

She stood by his desk and folded a big towel – intently and neatly, as he had showed her. Her hands were pulling it straight, smoothing it gently – he had to force himself to look away.

She offered no further explanation. The towel was set down on the wicker chair.

“I thought you were so excited about doing that hike once again?” he probed. She looked up now and said “Well, five isn’t a great number for that sort of thing, and after you said you wouldn’t go I figured I might as well let Marcus show the Nevilles what the volcano hike is all about. I can go by myself at any time, and well… I didn’t want to be in the way.”

He couldn’t quite work out what to make of her remark, so he turned to his dishtowel again and began to iron it precisely. First the middle, then the seams, then into the corners. Just opposite the way he used to solve puzzles.

Camille watched him out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t sure how to broach the subject that was on her mind but well, she’d have to say something. So, she cleared her throat and said “I saw my mother earlier today.” He looked up inquiringly. “Seems like you and Sandy have made her think,” she continued.

Oh dear. He hoped that didn’t mean Catherine was telling everyone that he and Sandy would make a nice couple or something like that. She loved to make innuendos like that. He hated being the centre of that sort of attention. It just brought about rumours and gossip. Which he hated. Why couldn’t people just mind their own business and respect others’ privacy...

He had never understood why people claimed they cared about someone and then had nothing better to do than to pry into their friends’ or family members’ affairs and discuss them with other friends. If that was ‘caring’ meant, he was glad that nobody cared about him. Admittedly, sometimes he wished someone cared about him in a good way – by being supportive, understanding and – yes, alright… loving. But it seemed that his idea of ‘caring about someone’ was extinct these days.

Camille went on “Apparently, I have the two of you to thank for her not attempting to send me off on any further blind dates in the future. She said that she realised it was selfish of her to try and match me up with what she considered ‘eligible’ men when I clearly wasn’t interested, just because she wanted me to settle down with a family and stay here on Saint Marie. Seems she came to the conclusion that I’m old enough to run my own life and that it won’t help if she tries to prod me.” She sounded somewhat baffled – obviously Catherine’s change of heart had completely taken her by surprise.

Richard just stared at her now. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Camille reminded him to be careful with his iron, and he set it on its back and let out a feeble “Oh.” He remembered how Sandy had said that most families were dysfunctional to a certain extent and that she appreciated her parents not being pushy about how she or David should lead their lives. And he had said that his parents had never been overly sentimental about their relationship…

He was surprised, but pleased for Camille, that Catherine had taken it to heart and given it some thought. He knew that Camille had been unhappy about how her mother had tried to push her in a certain direction, and given the fact that nothing had come of all the blind dates, it seemed that not one of the men she had met had really sparked her interest – other than on a superficial level. So, Catherine clearly hadn’t had much luck with her picks. He didn’t comment any further, though – he knew that Camille knew that he thought those blind dates were rubbish, anyway, so he was sure she didn’t want or need to hear his thoughts on this topic once again.

No more blind dates – this would perhaps mean that she’d continue to spend time with him in the evenings. A selfish little voice inside his head assured him that there was nothing wrong with that idea. Actually, it would be nice… he had missed spending time with her. Maybe she’d say something along those lines next?

He might even splurge on getting a bottle of his favourite good mature Rioja to celebrate with her for being free from her mother’s expectations… and perhaps she’d understand the metaphor then that he had used all those months ago when Catherine had set her up with someone for the Erzulie festival…

Camille folded another towel. He waited. As she remained silent, he turned to his dishtowel again to give it the final touch. He was glad to see that it was the last item in the pile – at least as far as ironing was concerned. There was underwear to fold, set aside in a different basket, but he’d turn to that at another time. There was no way he’d let Camille come near his underwear and pyjamas. That wouldn’t be appropriate, really. Definitely not. Plus… he knew he’d never get over the way she had smoothed that towel – if he let her fold his underwear, he’d faint every time he put on a new pair of underpants.

Then Camille said “You and Sandy really hit it off, didn’t you?” Her voice sounded a little thick now – obviously she was trying to hide something from him. She didn’t look up, though.

Richard thought “This is getting curious and curiouser… what on earth is next?” Aloud, he said cautiously “Hmmm. She’s very nice.” Camille added thoughtfully “And intelligent. And sophisticated. And elegant. And very beautiful….”

She now looked at him directly and asked “Is she your type, Richard? I mean… you remember how I asked you what your type is when Megan Talbot showed up and you said you had never figured it out? Is… is Sandy Neville the answer?”

Now, he was completely startled. What was this all about? Was this an interrogation? He was done with beating around the bush and asked bluntly “Camille, where are you heading with all this? I mean, not that it is any of your business, but Sandy Neville is a friend, and that is all I have to say about this matter – can we please talk about something else now?”

He knew he sounded a little rude, but he was clearly getting annoyed now. He didn’t like people prying into his affairs, and this was going too far.

Camille said, a little more testily now, “It’s just that I’ve been wondering… why did you lie to me all that time and say that you don’t dance, and then you go and ask her to dance with you?”


	10. Further Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And before 2015 comes to an end... here's another chapter. Hope you'll enjoy it :-) I'm not sure how long it will take me to post the next one, but I'll do my best. Feedback is welcome, as always.

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t try to fool me, Richard. I saw you!” Camille retorted.

Her glorious resolution to remain open and understanding – she had wanted to practice what she had preached to Marcus – had fallen to the wayside in an instant. It annoyed her to see how he obviously was trying to play mind games with her – did he think she was dumb? Sandy was a ‘friend’ – yes, and she was the Queen of Sheba!

His gaze was cold. “So what, Camille – what did you see? And what exactly is your point? That I danced with a woman who would rather have been on the other side of the moon than at that party? Just like myself, for that matter… And why would that be any of your business, anyway?”

He glared at her and continued “Have you come here to tell me that I misbehaved? I just wonder how you had the chance to notice. You didn’t exactly look bored enough to sneak around and spy on others – you were clearly way too busy showing off your skills on the dance floor. I’m surprised you were aware of my presence at all…”

“Oh, so you are turning the tables now and telling me off for having fun?”

“No, I’m not... I’m just saying that it’s baffling that you had the time to see anything outside of the dance floor, and – more importantly! – that you shouldn’t stick your nose into things you neither understand nor know anything about. And as far as I am concerned, this conversation is finished now.”

He unplugged the iron, set it aside and folded up he board, shoving it to the wall. He was done with ironing, anyway. He was done with a lot of things, he thought grimly.

Annoyed and upset, he stalked out. He hated that sort of thing. It made him feel like he was undergoing the inquisition – the House Matron in boarding school had perfected that procedure, and Camille was doing pretty well at it, too. He felt vexed. He was so over this all… so over feeling like a stupid school boy who had been caught doing something slightly against the rules and being clueless about what his ‘crime’ had been. It was pointless.

Obviously, Camille was not done yet – she was right at his heels and snapped “Don’t you dare walk away from me like that!” Then, as he turned around to her, clearly in a quarrelsome mood now, she said a little more moderately “It’s just – you know, I feel like an idiot. Over all those months I have tried to coax you into giving it a try with me – I mean, there was Solly’s wake and a few other occasions, and you always, always claimed you don’t dance. I had almost accepted it as a given fact by now.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept fixating her, with an exasperated look on his face, and so she raised her eyebrows and began to shout. “Say something! Tell me, what am I supposed to think when I see you dancing with someone else then? Huh? I mean, hasn’t it occurred to you that I might feel hurt and rejected?” Her temper flared up again.

They stood on the veranda, facing each others like a pair of gamecocks. He glowered at her, trying hard to keep his anger under control. “Come on, Camille – don’t try to sell me bottled moonshine and make me feel guilty! I won’t buy it! Hurt and rejected…”

She opened her mouth, but to no avail – he wouldn’t let her have a say.

He snorted and went on “Fiddlesticks! You didn’t look hurt and rejected when I saw you dancing last night! And I have told you before that I have little practice, so… Do you think I want to make a fool of myself – and disgrace you on top of that – by trying to dance with the star of the party who outshines everyone? You had fun with Marcus who’s so much better than me at anything I could actually think of, and I danced with Sandy. What’s the big deal about that dancing business, anyway?”

She completely ignored the mentioning of Marcus (and how he was so much better at everything) and had a go at him now, almost bellowing “What the big deal is? The big deal is that you… I wanted to be… oh, forget it. You’re a complete moron. If you think that you having little practice makes any difference to me you’re even more idiotic than I thought. Why would I care? I mean, a slow dance is…”

If he hadn’t been so obstinate and stubborn, she would have told him that it was about being close, that there was something intimate about it, and that she wouldn’t do it with just anybody. That he actually was the only man she wanted to be close to.

But the way it was, she couldn’t disclose this.

So she went on helplessly and a little less aggressively again: “It’s not about perfection, it’s about… oh, really! You… You idiot! I can’t believe it… I don’t expect… I mean, look, Marcus and I went to dancing classes together, and we were to all sorts of dances back in our teenage times. It all just came back yesterday night – and yes, it was special to move to the rhythm and be in sync and all that, but…”

Her lilting French accent came out stronger now as if she could no longer control it. Some part of his brain registered that she sounded more charming than ever, and he noticed the unusually unsteady tone of her voice, but he couldn’t help but just retort a little sulkily - “Oh right. No need to go into detail. Anybody who had eyes in their head could see that… And no, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that the two of you looked so spectacular together that… oh well, it’s discouraging for others! And Sandy… you know, she hardly had the chance to dance yesterday night. She felt lonely and left out, and I felt sorry for her.”

Camille didn’t realise that this was almost a peace offering. Still annoyed with him, she now sneered “Bah. The damsel in distress again! And so you came to the rescue, she fell into your arms, and you danced together, just on a whim? As if you were Mr Impulsive all of a sudden!”

That set him off again. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! I can’t believe we’re still talking about this… for your information, Camille, some people actually have feelings. Not everyone is as bold and self-assured as you and Marcus are. Or as dense, for that matter!” His voice sounded peeved, and he was obviously more than just a little fed up.

He shoved his right hand into his hair and said with an irritated voice “What is this about, Camille? Do I have to make excuses for getting on well with others? Am I not allowed to talk to people while you can flirt and make friends with whoever is out there? Can’t I chat or dance with someone while you date one man after the other? Am I accountable to you?”

He had been getting louder and louder, talking himself into a rage, and Camille was not holding back now, either.

She shouted “No, you are not, but I’d like to know why you keep me at arm’s length from you and make me work so hard to get closer to you… I thought we are at least friends! I mean… I’ve been trying for so long already, and you keep pushing me away, and I begin to think it’s just your personality, and then someone else walks in, and you are on friendly terms with her rightaway. You even dance with her – the slow dance that I so wanted to have with you because… oh, never mind – and for the records, I haven’t gone on a date – blind or otherwise - with anyone since the evening of the Erzulie festival… not because Maman had given up trying to pair me off with some ‘eligible’ man – no, she kept doing that, and I didn’t go - but because I didn’t want to waste their time and mine… What do you think I’ve been doing lately? You know precisely how often I’ve come to visit you in the evenings over the past months – when would I have the time for flirting with men and going on dates when I’m always hanging out with you?”

“Oh, so you can’t go and meet others because you are hanging out with me? So, it’s my fault?” he shouted back. “Well, over the past two weeks it’s rather been your own fault – you’ve been spending every single minute of your evenings with Marcus and his friends! And if I wanted to see you at all outside of work, I had to come along – and watch you chatting with them. We haven’t really talked properly since they arrived, out of work, I mean, and I’m beginning to think you just visited me during the months before because you were completely bored out of your wits – and now that someone more interesting and shiny has arrived, you turn to them and leave me out in the rain – or in the blistering sunshine, for that matter! If that’s your concept of friendship, then… thank you very much, and you know what, I don’t need friends like that. Who’s pushing away whom here? And why are we talking about all this, anyway!?”

Camille was just about to point out that she had visited him after the garden party when the phone in her pocket began to buzz. Assuming that it was Marcus (for whose antics she clearly didn’t have the nerve right now), she wanted to ignore it, but Richard said crossly “Oh, for pity’s sake, Camille, pick it up. I have already said more than I wanted to, anyway... and if you don’t mind, I’d rather be alone now…”

He went inside again, and Camille angrily accepted the call, without checking the caller ID beforehand. “Hello,” she barked. She listened and then replied, much more civilised “Okay, Fidel. Yes, I’ll be right there. I’ll pick up the Chief on the way…” Putting the phone back into her pocket, she took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together.

A little hesitantly, she stepped closer to the veranda door again. “Sir?” She sounded all professional now. Richard looked up from the towel he was folding and frowned.

“What?” He noticed her shifted mood immediately – and of course, the form of address made it clear that she was trying to bring the communication back to a more neutral level again.

“There has been a car accident on the cliff road near the “Etoile de mer” beach – that’s near the big shopping mall, you know. Nobody’s dead or injured… Or rather, that’s how it seems at present. The Nevilles and Marcus were involved. For some reason they took separate cars, Marcus drove the Commissioner’s vehicle, and that has landed in the ditch on the mountain side, but that’s not the problem. The thing is… Sandy Neville has gone missing – they believe she jumped out of the car in the general confusion and ran off… Fidel and Dwayne are there, and Dwayne has started to look for her, but so far… to no avail!”

Richard’s face went pale – he knew very well that the cliff road wasn’t called cliff road by accident – the steep escarpments along that road were legendary, and the speed limit was 50 km/h there, 30 km/h in the particularly dangerous zones – again, those signs hadn’t been installed on a whim, but because the road and the steep embankment slopes really were dangerous.

More than once, Richard and his team had been called to accidents there – because people were speeding despite the warning signs everywhere, or because some British tourist had pulled the car to the wrong side of the road and caused a crash.

Tourists from the UK tended to forget that Saint Marie might be British, but since it had been handed over to the British from the French only in the 1970s, the island’s traffic system had never been converted to left hand drive. It would have been too much of a hassle with all the public vehicles (they were as old as the hills, but even now, some were still in use), the road signs and everything that was connected to it.

Since it was a small island, it wasn’t a big issue – and its inhabitants certainly didn’t have the tiniest issue with it, anyway. It was the tourists from the UK who made things problematic sometimes. On a narrow road that basically was one and a half lanes only, if that many, people tended to drive in the middle of the road – and when some other car showed up, British tourists automatically pulled to the left – not a clever idea…

Of course, driving on the right didn’t bother people from the US, like the Nevilles or Marcus. So, something else must have happened. But if Sandy had indeed jumped out of the car and run off, she was in danger. The slopes were steep, vegetation was unruly and wild, and there were snakes. She could fall, hurt herself and lose consciousness, and once that happened, it could be hard to find her.

Knowing how upset she had been the night before, Richard suspected that the hike today might not have gone smoothly – and perhaps that had unsettled her so much that she just had wanted to get away. Who knew? She must have been very disturbed – she was usually far too reasonable to act like that.

Without further ado, he turned around to close all shutters, and Camille came to help him before they both hurried to the Defender. Their argument was forgotten – for the moment. All that counted now was getting to the cliff road and seeing what they could do to help and find Sandy.

Camille drove like a banshee, and Richard squirmed in his seat – but completely uncharacteristically, he didn’t complain once about the potholes that she hit. At one point, he raised his eyebrows because she had hit the hard shoulder, the car swayed a little, and dirt and pebbles spurted – but he didn’t say anything. Camille muttered “I’m sorry” – she realised he was worried, but there was nothing she could say or do to make him feel better. So – like him - she remained silent.

After about 15 minutes, they had arrived at the spot where the accident had occurred. The Commissioner’s car had already been moved out of the ditch – apparently, it hadn’t been in there all that deeply, anyway. It was only mildly damaged, fortunately. There was a big scratch on one side, but that could be fixed. The scene was secured, too. It wasn’t a very busy road, but with the narrowness and all the curves, you had to be careful and warn people of obstacles ahead in time.

Camille parked the Defender right behind Dwayne’s motorbike. Fidel and Dwayne were there, both in plainclothes – the latter had been on call and had contacted Fidel immediately. Originally, they had figured they could deal with the situation on their own, but the fact that Sandy Neville had disappeared had changed everything, and Fidel had decided this was more than he could handle.

Richard and Camille jumped out of the Rover, and in unspoken agreement, she approached Marcus while he nodded in direction of the Nevilles who where waiting near their car and said “I’ll be right there, just a moment, please!”

Fidel was by his side rightaway to give him all the info he had so far, and Richard listened, nodded, said “Hmm. Right. Thanks, Fidel – you might go ahead and help Dwayne dig around now”. Then, he finally approached Erin and David.

After the inevitable hello, he got all professional towards them. “So, if I understand correctly, you’d been on the volcano hike in the morning, then had an extended lunch in the restaurant near the visitor centre and left again at around 2.30?” he asked.

“Yes,” Erin confirmed, “that’s right.”

“How come you used two cars? Weren’t you supposed to pick up Marcus?” He had gathered that much from their earlier conversations.

David said “Well, he called us before we left the hotel and said he’d go to the visitor centre by himself, so we wouldn’t have to take the detour… Sandy was with us… she stayed in our hotel suite, you know…” Her voice trailed off.

Richard waited, his face was completely blank and expressionless. Erin added “She didn’t feel so well yesterday night, so…”

“Yes, right – well, that doesn’t matter in this context, Erin, thank you,” Richard said coolly. “What happened next?”

“Well, during the hike, my pants got torn,” - she turned to show him that there was a big crack in one of the trouser legs – “and I figured I might as well get new ones as this can’t be fixed. I can still use them as shorts as I can unzip the legs, but well… Sorry, I know it’s not important… Anyway, I wanted to look around, so we went there. But I didn’t find anything I liked, and so we left again, after a drink. That was around 3.30 or so. Marcus suggested we take this road as it’s scenic, and he went ahead with Sandy…”

She looked over to David and said helplessly “I’m afraid I don’t know what happened then because I didn’t pay attention. I actually had my eyes closed for a few minutes because I was so tired. But David…”

“Yes,” her husband said “Well, I noticed that Marcus’s car was swaying – he wasn’t really staying in lane, if you know what I mean. It was like he was distracted, and I kept some distance because… well, it seemed wiser!” His smile was crooked. Richard nodded and said “I see. And then?”

David scratched his head and continued “I don’t quite know how it happened, but it’s like Marcus steered the car straight into the ditch. Of course, he didn’t do that on purpose… and I didn’t see it, it’s rather an assumption. We drove round this bend,” - he gestured to a curve down the road -, “and their car was in the ditch already. So, of course, we stopped to see what had happened and help Marcus and Sandy. Except that Sandy wasn’t there any more when we arrived. I didn’t see her jump out, though, so I cannot really say what happened…”

Richard cleared his throat and asked “I must ask this now… in order to get an idea of Sandy’s – er – emotional condition… have there been any arguments or – er – unpleasant conversations during the hike or later on, as far as you know?”

Erin and David exchanged a glance, and David looked down on his feet. Richard said exasperatedly “Come on, I know that your sister wasn’t particularly bubbly yesterday night. You said so already. That’s not the point now. I’m just trying to find out if she and Marcus had an argument that distracted them so they didn’t pay attention and…”

“Yes,” Erin interjected, “yes, there was some kind of tension between them. I don’t know what exactly happened because David and I went ahead during the hike, so we don’t know any details. They didn’t mention anything to us. But it was clear that they both were agitated, and Sandy had a certain kind of sulky air about her. Which is unusual for her because she is – oh well, Richard, you know her by now. She’s not the type to lose her balance easily… and she and Marcus always got on so well… ”

Richard thought grimly that it was interesting how blind people could be to the worries and concerns of their friends and family, despite spending so much time with them. Apparently, neither David nor Erin had ever made an effort to look behind the façade that Sandy had put on. And neither of them had any idea that Sandy was in love with Marcus.

He nodded again and said abruptly “Right. Thank you. So, you arrived at the car to help Marcus and Sandy, and she wasn’t there any more?” Erin shrugged helplessly and replied “I’m afraid that’s it, yes…”

****************

In the meantime, Camille was interrogating Marcus. Very soon, she had found out that things had gone wrong between him and Sandy – in an epic way – and he was frustrated, angry, and now devastated because he felt guilty for her disappearing. Not to mention that he was worried sick – he knew the cliff road, after all, and he had an inkling of the dangers lurking in the area.

“So, tell me… how did it happen?” Camille asked. She was completely professional now, her own worries had been pushed aside once again, and she focused on what her old friend was telling her. He described how nothing he had said during the hike had come across right, and after a few examples, Camille could understand why Sandy had given him the cold shoulder. Richard’s remark that Marcus was dense came back to mind, and although she tried not to listen to the little nagging voice in her head, she couldn’t help it – he had a point…

He had clumsily tried to compliment her, then made a few remarks about how well she seemed to fit in here on Saint Marie, how she had made friends easily… Her responses had been rather non-committal at best, but she had generally seemed open to talking.

However, he had made the mistake of referring to Richard and how well they appeared to get along. Apparently, the way he had said it had irritated Sandy.

She had got all waspish and retorted that Richard was a very gentle, understanding and friendly man, quite different from others who were only focused on themselves - and that had upset Marcus… one thing had led to another, and in the end, she had told him to shut up because the only reason why he was pestering her now was that he couldn’t accept that she was having fun with someone else, that he was a possessive attention seeker and just wanted applause, and that he should go and jump in a lake.

Despite her own misery, Camille had to stifle a grin when she heard that – wow, Sandy had shown some spunk here! Considering how well-balanced and diplomatic she usually was, that must surely have been quite a shock for Marcus. As for Richard being gentle, understanding and friendly… well, that was a different story – and fortunately not a subject of the investigation.

Marcus’s face was drawn when he looked at Camille. “And then she said she’d be happy if I could just be quiet for the rest of the hike and leave her alone. She – she went ahead then, and I thought it was best to give her time and space, so we went our separate ways… I was always half a kilometre behind her – more or less. We had a picnic at the rest area with Erin and David, and we tried to behave normally, but I think they noticed we were tense.”

He shook his head, thinking of the strain between them, and added “It was like a scene from a bad movie. On the way down, Sandy went with Erin – they were talking about the real estate agents on Antigua and all that – and I went with David. We had an extended lunch in that restaurant near the visitor centre and then went to the mall – Erin wanted to look for some new trekking pants – to no avail, though. And then we wanted to go back home, and I suggested taking this road. I thought it’s a nice drive, and she might appreciate that… and maybe it would help to calm her down… I mean, the view is spectacular, isn’t it. And I asked Sandy to come with me instead of going with Erin and David – I really wanted to make peace, believe me, Camille! But whatever I said, she said I was making a silly scene, and it was none of my business that she had danced with Richard – I had confronted her about that - and at least he had ‘always been respectful about her feelings’…”

Camille gritted her teeth. What on earth did that mean? Had there been more than just that dance? She remembered how the two of them had always stuck their heads together at La Kaz.... This was driving her nuts. She didn’t know what to think or feel any more.

But she forced herself to be professional and just nodded.

“Okay, right. And then?” she asked. Marcus responded “Well, and we got into arguing – she said I’d always walk right over people and try to be the… the alpha male… and wherever I’d go, I’d cause a stir, and – oh, Camille, it was awful! She clearly wanted to hurt me… And she succeeded – it was so painful to hear her saying all these things. I was distracted, and so… You know, the last thing she said before the car went into the ditch was that she wasn’t sure at all any more she’d want to open a practice with David and me. She said that none of us really cared about her and her feelings, and she couldn’t bear seeing me everyday… and that shocked me. It outraged me so much that… well, I think I just lost control, and before I knew it, we were in the trench. I was woozy for a moment, but I seem to remember a noise – and the door on her side was open when I wanted to check on her.”

****************

“Man, I can’t tell you how fed up I am with the whole lot of them by now,” said Fidel sorely. Dwayne chuckled and confessed “Me, too. Nothing but trouble. They were fun for a while, but it’s really getting tiresome now!”

They were near the place where the car had come off the road and checked for footprints or other traces. Fidel bent over, took a closer look at something he had seen and said “Oh, great…” - and picked up Sandy Neville’s mobile phone that had been hidden in the greenery.

“Found something, Fidel?” The Chief stood by his side a moment later. He seemed anxious, and Fidel wondered if Juliet was perhaps mistaken and there was indeed something going on between the Chief and Sandy Neville. Whatever, that wasn’t his problem…

He showed Richard the mobile phone, and they exchanged glances. Dwayne scratched his head and remarked “Well, I guess that explains why she hasn’t called anyone to say where she is.”

Richard turned around and said sarcastically “Right, Dwayne. Brilliant deduction.”

Dwayne grinned. “Oh, thanks, Chief. That was not so difficult, but I thought I’d point it out, anyway…”

Richard rolled his eyes but decided to keep his mouth shut. This was not the moment for a rant. He bent over to look at something and asked David who had approached him “Did Sandy still wear her hiking boots?”

“Yes, sure… Well, they’re not really ankle high boots, but more like trekking shoes, but in any case, they are sturdy.”

“But they are robust?”

“Yes, I think so…”

Richard pointed at a footprint he had noticed, half covered by a fairly big tussock that grew in the ditch.

He said thoughtfully “I don’t think she’s got very far yet. I mean, you have called us fairly quickly, and with the somewhat impassable vegetation around here, it is difficult to make headway. And she’s rather small and delicate – although she has energy and apparently was – er – somewhat upset, so that might have helped to speed her up. But it is hard to get around here. I don’t think she’s gone uphill – we would have seen her already if she had chosen that way. Downhill, though, is clearly dangerous. Would she do that? Maybe, in a frenzy. And the fact that she didn’t react to your shouting is alarming. There are two possibilities. Either, she doesn’t want us to find her, that’s why she’s keeping quiet – or she can’t reply because something has happened to her.”

He knew he was pointing out the obvious. He felt like an idiot.

Camille approached him and said “Sir, you should see this…” And she led him to the shoulder of the sloping side where she had found two more footprints. They had been covered up by grass before, too. The trace disappeared in what Richard called “a patch of primeval vegetation” – and Camille pointed out that the slope wasn’t so steep there. Something that looked like a path or trail could be detected a few metres ahead in the bushes, though it was very narrow and almost non-existent, and then vanished in the bushes – only noticeable for those who were actively looking for it.

She said “I didn’t realise that it’s flatter here. I just saw it when I looked now. The patch of wilderness is big enough to hide in when you don’t want to be found, so…”

A moment later, all the men had disappeared into the shrubbery.

Camille stayed with Erin who had wanted to come along – but Richard had stopped her. “It is important that someone stays here,” he had pointed out. “If we need more help – like an ambulance – it’s vital that someone is here who can receive and advise them where to go. Camille will stay with you, right?”

With that, he followed the others and joined them in searching the bushes. He hadn’t even waited for Camille’s confirming nod.


	11. Anguish and Remorse

Erin leant on the car and said wearily to Camille “I don’t have any idea what has come over Sandy. She’s usually so calm and level-headed… And I wish I knew what Marcus has done to upset her like this. They generally get along really well.”

Camille shrugged and said “Oh, Marcus can drive you crazy sometimes. I know that very well. We’ve been friends forever, but that doesn’t make me blind to his shortcomings. He can be quite a blockhead.”

She didn’t go into that any deeper, but noticed that Erin chuckled quietly – obviously, she had made her own experiences with some of Marcus’s not so great qualities.

For a moment, both women were silent, then Erin said “We’ve often felt that Marcus and Sandy would be a great match. She’s diplomatic where he gets upset, and he’s lively where she sometimes is too quiet. But I’m not so sure any more now. And neither seemed interested, anyway. David told me that she’s been rather aloof since they arrived here. He wonders if… oh well…”

She paused.

Then she continued “Your boss, Richard… what is he like? I could only gather a very general impression of him yesterday, but he appears to be nice. A bit starchy, but nice. And he seems professional and to-the-point, from what I saw today. Sandy has spoken very warmly about him. Have you known him for long yet?”

Camille replied drily “Over two years now. He never really wanted to be here. The Caribbean is too wild and undisciplined for his liking. That includes the people.” She laughed. It sounded hollow. Erin shot her a sideways glance, but didn’t make any further remark.

They heard the men calling Sandy’s name. Erin closed her eyes and murmured “I’m completely shattered. I could fall asleep right here and now.”

Camille could understand that only too well. She was tired, too. So she said “Well, you don’t have to sleep standing up. Just sit in the car and close your eyes for a bit. I don’t mind.”

Erin sensed that Camille didn’t really feel like chatting at this point – her almost curt behaviour didn’t really encourage any further conversation. She was actually relieved – she wouldn’t have known what to say. She felt that there were ‘vibrations’ between Camille and Richard that she couldn’t quite figure out, and she didn’t want to drop a brick.

So she just nodded and sighed “Right. Wake me up when something happens, please…” With that, she crawled into the car, reclined the seat and closed her eyes.

Left to her own devices, Camille fell into brooding. She felt very, very weary now. The past two weeks had taken their toll. She had spent too much time on entertaining people, there hardly had been any down time, and last night had just been plain exhausting – physically as well as emotionally. And the visit with Richard today hadn’t been a good idea, either…

Everything seemed to go wrong.

Ignoring the dust and sand, she sat down on the ground beside the car, leant on the tire, hugged her knees and shut her eyes. Unwelcome thoughts and feelings started to haunt her… In a flash, parts of their argument came back, and she chided herself for losing her temper and putting pressure on him. His reaction had been scathing – his voice had been aggressive and cutting… Although they had had arguments before, he had never spoken to her like that.

And if she was honest with herself, she might have deserved it – she had always known that he wanted people to respect his privacy. But still… that didn’t mean he could talk to her like that. For a moment, her jawline tensed, and if her mother had seen her, she would have said that Camille was sporting her ‘mulish look’.

Come to think of it, she was also appalled at how eager he had been to follow the other men – he, who got upset, almost scared, at the sight of the least little snippet of wildlife! The knight in shining armour, on a white horse, riding into the wilderness and coming to the rescue, huh…

In spite of her crossness she hoped that there wouldn’t be any snakes or spiders. When she became aware of that thought, she tried to persuade herself that she was only worried for Sandy. But she knew only too well that – while she was indeed concerned about Sandy and her well-being – she actually was fretting because of Richard and his anxieties. She didn’t want him to get hurt or be frightened – no matter how much he annoyed her sometimes.

Well, thankfully, she hadn’t been asked to join the search. With her shorts, it would have been a scratchy affair for her legs… Not to mention that she wasn’t keen on being in the line of fire when two certain males began acting on testosterone… Richard had been hopping mad, and although he had tried to cool down and act professionally, she had felt his inner turmoil. And Marcus… well, he was clearly beside himself. There was lots of potential for an unpleasant scene, and her presence wouldn’t have made it easier, so… it was better that she had stayed here.

And they would find her, she knew that. If Sandy was hiding in that patch, they’d find her. With that, she dozed off…

She startled when she heard a voice calling from the distance “Camille! Erin! We’ve found her!”

Within a second she was awake again, jumped up and touched Erin’s shoulder to wake her. Together, they hurried to the roadside. Only a few minutes later, they saw Fidel coming up to them, pushing the branches aside and holding them out of the way for the other men.

He was followed by David who was carrying his sister. She was conscious – though barely so. One of her feet appeared to be strangely twisted, and there were scratches in her face and on her arms. Her face – as far as it was visible - was pale, dirty and stained with tears, and her hair was messy. She had put her arms around her brother’s neck, her eyes were tightly shut, and she sighed faintly.

Dwayne followed, then came Marcus and Richard – Dwayne was talking with David, between the two other men there was deafening silence.

Camille and Erin hastened to make the backseat of the rental car a little more comfortable for Sandy. Richard rushed to the Defender, took out the blanket that they kept there, ‘just in case’, and brought it to the car. It was hot, but Sandy was shivering.

Gently, David helped her to sit down on the backseat, and Richard and Erin wrapped the blanket around her. Sandy opened her eyes for a moment, looked up to Richard and tried a smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. For a split second he smiled, too, then he stepped back so Erin could give Sandy something to drink from the water bottle she had retrieved.

Camille had to turn away. The open concern in his eyes was more than she could bear.

Marcus just stood there, with hanging arms, useless and dumbfounded.

For what seemed like an eternity, nobody said a word – even Dwayne kept his mouth shut. The silence was finally broken by Richard’s voice.

“Well, alright. David… I guess it’s best if you and Erin – and Marcus (his voice sounded very cold all of a sudden) – drive Sandy to Honoré hospital now to have her checked. Fidel, please take the Commissioner’s car back to his house – I’ll give him a call so he’ll know what to expect, and don’t worry… there won’t be any problems for you, he’ll just be grateful to have his car back… Oh, and Camille, could you please follow Fidel with the Rover and drive him home afterwards…”

“And what about me, Chief?” Dwayne asked.

“You,” Richard said pointedly, “will have the honourable task of taking me home with the bike, Dwayne.”

The older officer blinked in surprise – this was a first. Never ever had the Chief literally asked (or rather, ordered!) him to take him anywhere by motorbike – it had always required some persuading and coaxing to make him sit in the sidecar.

Richard looked into the faces around him and added sardonically “And just for your information… I hope I won’t see any of you again before Monday morning, unless there’s an emergency, of course.” He knew he was being rude, but he had had more than enough for this weekend. He wanted to be left alone for a while.

He took out his mobile and called the Commissioner. The others listened in reverent silence how the Inspector briefly explained the situation about a minor accident having happened, Sandy being somewhat beside herself - ‘yes, sir, a sprained ankle’ – and the car being ‘slightly scratched’…

“No, sir, Fidel will be extra careful. You know you can rely on him. Excellent. Yes. Right. Sure. No, no, I don’t think so. But she will have to go to ER, just to make sure… Yes, certainly. I expect your nephew will keep you informed. Yes. Thanks. Bye.”

He turned around again, heaved a sigh, and – seeing that none of them had moved – clapped his hands, uttering an impatient “Chop-chop – what are you waiting for?”

All of a sudden, everyone seemed to wake up – there was some shuffling and moving - and a few minutes later, when they all were gone, Richard reached out for the helmet that Dwayne kept in the sidecar. “Right,” he said, as he was climbing in and leaning back, “let’s go.”

Dwayne didn’t give him any chance to reconsider – seconds later, they were going down the cliff road, and Richard was trying to decide whether it was better to shut his eyes or keep them open to face the horror. He figured that the latter would work better for him… at least he wouldn’t suffer from motion sickness then. In any event, it was better than sitting in the Rover with Camille, being aware of the tense atmosphere and trying to ignore it.

He sighed. He had been honestly pleased when she had showed up at his place… Alright, it had been embarrassing that she had caught him singing, and the way she had folded his towels had been – well, unsettling. But yes, he had been really happy to see her… after having felt so neglected yesterday evening and all the days before, her visit had seemed promising.

Why on earth she had had to pick a fight out of the blue – that was beyond him. It was none of her business if Sandy Neville was his type or not – and why would she care! It was not as if Sandy was interested in him – and neither was she, for that matter, as far as he could see. He gritted his teeth for a moment.

As for Sandy, she had certainly caused quite a stir with her spin into the woods. She must have been seriously upset to do something so unreasonable as that.. They had found her between two bushes, on her stomach, face down, whimpering and barely conscious – she had tripped over some roots and fallen badly – and had only about managed to fend off the worst by thrusting out her hands just in time. Still, the fall had left her disoriented, and she hadn’t been able to move. Her ankle was sprained, not broken, as Marcus had found out quickly.

He had wanted to lift her up and carry her back to the car, but she had started to cry and pushed him away when he had tried, so David had picked her up. Marcus had stammered “I just wanted to help…” but nobody had listened.

Richard had been tempted to say something about him having helped enough already, but had bitten his tongue. It wouldn’t really be of any use giving Marcus a piece of his mind. He had noticed, though, that Marcus had been devastated by Sandy’s rejection – Camille had condensed Marcus’s statement when she had reported to him, but it had been obvious that he had received a brush-off, and now she had rebuffed him openly - that had given Richard some satisfaction. Sandy was a brave little lady! Maybe, Marcus’s self-assuredness had suffered a little blow from this. Not that it would have a lasting effect, though…

But whatever, for Sandy’s sake, he hoped they would settle their differences. From the look in Marcus’s eyes, Richard had understood that the younger man had woken up and finally realised that Sandy wasn’t just a friend, but that he had deeper feelings for her. Since Camille had seen them dancing, he figured that Marcus had seen them, too – and maybe that had opened his eyes. If Marcus was the man Sandy wanted, they would reconcile.

Richard pondered with a wry smile that – from his observation - it was the women who had the power – if they wanted someone, they’d do anything to get him. It was an illusion to think that men chose their partners – it was the other way round.

Not that he’d know for sure... Nobody had ever wanted him in that way.

He thought of Camille… if she fancied her old friend, then she wouldn’t be happy with this development.

He wondered for a moment what she might have been about to say when they had got interrupted. Well, perhaps it was for the best that he’d never find out. They had been heading for a full blown argument, and he was worn out from all the activities, the lack of sleep, the confusing dreams, the endless chit-chat… he knew he was irritable, and if she had had a go at him, he surely would have found it impossible to hold back. Her spiteful remark that he had apparently become Mr Impulsive all of a sudden had already got his hackles up… and it surely wouldn’t have got any better from there. It might have been for the best that they had been interrupted.

She just knew how to make him mad. She had teased him often enough for being so predictable and set in his ways, and it wasn’t that he didn’t try – but the steps he made were all too small for her to notice, apparently – why did he bother at all? It wasn’t that she appreciated his efforts, anyway. How could he ever have thought she’d understand him?

No, he didn’t want all that. He’d get over it. He didn’t want to feel all that hurt. Love was too painful. It was better to be alone. Much better.

He didn’t want listen to the insistent little voice in his head telling him that he was a fool to believe he could ignore his feelings. He didn’t want to listen, either, when it said that Camille cared about him and that she wouldn’t have appeared at his house out of the blue on a weekend unless she had been shaken by something. What that might have been – who knew? Surely not that he had danced with Sandy? Why would she care?

Still… maybe he had over-reacted... though he doubted it. He didn’t usually over-react, did he? He was a reasonable, objective man, after all.

Well, he’d see how she would behave on Monday – and he’d act accordingly then.

Dwayne was completely oblivious to what the Chief in the sidecar might be thinking or feeling. He hurtled along happily, feeling like the king of the road. When they reached the dirt road that led down to the shack, he stopped abruptly with a deafening screech and turned his head to Richard who was sitting in the sidecar, resembling a petrified zombie. With a broad grin, he said “Now, Chief, wasn’t that a fun ride! That cliff road is quite something, huh! You know I’ll have to drop you off here, though – the bike doesn’t cope so well with that sandy road of yours…”

Richard gave a faint sigh of relief, got rid of the helmet and tried to regain his composure. Those sidecar rides always gave him the creeps, no matter how distracting his thoughts and feelings might be.

He got out of the sidecar, thanked Dwayne and watched him drive off. Then he turned around and tottered down to his shack, feeling every single bone in his body. He opened the door, looked around and groaned.

Automatically, he reached for the water bottle, gulped down its contents and – putting it down again - caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. Was that him? Good grief…

His shirt and trousers looked like they had been in a sandstorm. And it didn’t get better as he looked around: There was the laundry bin, filling up again already. The towels were still waiting for him to attend to them, and no, they wouldn’t fold themselves. He noticed Harry sitting in the doorway, staring at him contemptuously. And a freshly-bred dust bunny was hovering over the floor… Richard sighed in frustration. For a moment, his shoulders sagged and he felt a wave of self pity washing over him.

Life in the Caribbean was decidedly horrible. How others could think it was paradise was clearly beyond him.

*************

Camille and Fidel were sitting in the car, on the way to Fidel’s house. The delicious aroma of fruit, fish and spices was wafting through the air. The Rover was laden with food platters.

Some minutes ago they had delivered the Commissioner’s car, and while Selwyn Patterson hadn’t been particularly impressed with the scratched side, he had been relieved to hear that nothing really serious had happened. Camille had explained that Sandy had sprained her ankle when she had got out of the car – that was the story they had all agreed on -, and the Pattersons had asked a few more questions about where the accident had happened, but apart from that, no further comments were made.

Mrs Patterson had been disappointed to find out that the farewell dinner had to be cancelled, but after this accident, nobody would have been in the right mood, anyway. David and Erin had called to say that they’d go back to their hotel straight from the hospital, and Marcus would stay with Sandy.

She had spent quite a while on preparing food – what a shame that it would only be her husband and herself for dinner – they could never eat all that food. Fortunately, she hadn’t started to cook yet when they had called… it was only the cold appetizers that she had finished so far…

The Commissioner had glanced briefly at Fidel who was clearly tired, then his eyes had wandered to Camille who looked exhausted, too…

He had turned to his wife and said “You know what, I’m sure that Juliet and Fidel would be pleased if they didn’t have to cook tonight. And there’s enough for Camille as well… Why don’t we just give these two half of what you have prepared, and they can split it between them? That way, nothing will go to waste, and everyone will be happy!”

During the ride, Fidel noticed that Camille was tense, and so he didn’t say much. When they arrived at his house, he invited her in, though, saying that they should all have dinner together – it was impossible for Camille to turn the offer down without appearing incredibly rude.

So, she played with Rosie while the young couple set the table and got everything ready.

While they were sitting down at the dinner table, Fidel gave his wife a brief rundown on what had happened, and she listened intently, showing compassion and concern for Sandy, wondering about how things might continue and asking all the right questions.

Fidel finished with “And it was like the Chief clapped his hands and we all woke up from the daze again! He was the master of the situation. After that, Camille and I went to the Commissioner to deliver the car and explain the situation – and Mrs Patterson came up with all these platters because of the cancelled ‘family dinner’, or whatever you might call it…”

Juliet agreed that this had been a very generous gesture. She was pleasantly surprised about this unexpected benefaction – she had been suffering from a headache for the better part of the day and had dreaded cooking, so it was a welcome relief for her that she could just sit down and eat instead of having to stand by the stove and cook a full meal. The appetizers that Mrs Patterson had made looked delicious! She was sure they’d be tasty, too!

Rosie had had dinner earlier, so they let her play – they could watch over her easily in the open plan dining room.

They made random conversation over dinner until Fidel took a final vol-au-vent and said “I know it sounds terrible, but I for one am grateful that the Nevilles and Marcus cancelled their dinner. I feel that we have deserved this so much more…”

Juliet laughed. She knew how fed up her husband was with Camille’s friend and his gang by now.

Camille remained quiet. She didn’t respond to Fidel’s remark – she only looked down on her plate, playing with her fork and shoving a forlorn shrimp tail from left to right – and back again. She hadn’t eaten much… but somehow she wasn’t hungry. She wasn’t angry any more, either – she was tired and sad.

Juliet shot Fidel an inquiring glance – his answer was an almost imperceptible head shaking.

“I must apologise to you, Camille. I fell asleep in the car yesterday – and I was so dazed when we got out that I completely forgot to thank you for taking us home,” she said to Camille.

Camille looked up and said “Oh, never mind. I know you were tired. So was I, so don’t worry!”

Fidel remarked “It was a nice party, wasn’t it. And you looked splendid – that dress suited you very well. Come to think of it, I don’t think there was any woman in the room who could hold a candle to you – apart from Juliet, of course.”

His open praise made both women smile. Juliet reached for Fidel’s hand and said “Thank you for saying that! Could it be that you’re just a little bit biased?” He laughed and said “Not at all. The two of you are warm and friendly, and that’s what makes both of you beautiful – apart from the pretty dresses you might wear.”

Camille saw the loving glance that he and Juliet exchanged, and her eyes got misty. Fidel noticed it, but didn’t make any remark on it. Instead he got up, took his plate to the sink and said “And now I think it’s time to take little Miss Rosie to bed. I’ll do that, Juliet – don’t worry…”

Juliet and Camille also got up. They moved over to sit down on the couch and watched him pick up Rosie who naturally protested… he swirled her around, took her on his arm and said “No, missy, it’s bedtime. Say nighty-night to Mummy and Auntie Camille, then we’ll take a bath, and then… we’ll read a story together!”

Rosie wasn’t old enough yet to speak properly, and she couldn’t grasp entirely what was going on – she was just about 18 months now. But when Fidel carried her over to the couch, she gurgled and squealed. Camille kissed her little hand, and Rosie laughed happily. Juliet caressed her daughter’s cheek and kissed her, then Fidel took her away, singing and joking with Rosie.

Juliet smiled and turned to Camille again. “He loves doing that!” she explained. Camille nodded faintly and said “I know. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I know he loves being a daddy!”

There was a pause, and then Juliet asked gingerly “You seem quiet, Camille. Are you okay?”

Camille tried to put on a brave face and began to speak. “Yes, sure… everything is fine,” she said lightly. But then she saw Juliet’s compassionate gaze and broke down. Her face puckered up and the tears began to fall. “Nothing is fine,” she sobbed as Juliet’s arm came around to give her a hug. She cried on her friend’s shoulder for a while, then she sat up, retrieved a tissue and blew her nose. Her eyes were big and brimming with tears.

“What’s the matter?” Juliet’s voice was gentle. Camille just shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it. Juliet tried again. “Camille… come on, we are friends. I can see that you’re unhappy… Is it because of the party yesterday? Did anything go wrong? You seemed a bit out of sorts when we went home…”

Camille blew her nose once more and wiped away the tears that kept coming. Then she said almost inaudibly “Everything went wrong. At first, I – I thought everything was great, I loved the food, the people were fun, and the music was fantastic… you know how much I enjoy dancing. I love the fast stuff, the Latin dances and all that. But slow dances… slow dances are magical if you do them with someone special.” Juliet nodded patiently. She knew what Camille meant. She felt the same way.

Camille sniffled and said “And I hoped that… someone special would ask me for a slow dance, but it didn’t happen. I – I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter because he never dances… but then… then I saw him dancing with someone else… and… well, I was disappointed. I – slept on it, though, because nothing good ever comes of throwing a tantrum, and today I went to see him to… well, to find out… why… why he had avoided me…”

Juliet waited. A big sob came from Camille before she continued “And we had – a clash… no, it really was a horrible, horrible quarrel. We got into shouting and arguing, and we said some awful things… and… oh, it went terribly wrong. I don’t know what else we would have said if Fidel hadn’t called because of the accident… and there…” She stopped and realised what she was about to reveal…

She felt Juliet lightly squeezing her hand, then, after a moment, she heard her asking softly “It’s the Chief, isn’t it?” She nodded feebly, threw her arms around Juliet’s neck and cried – almost as vehemently as she had cried the night before. Juliet held her, made soothing noises and waited until she had calmed down a little.

Then she began to speak. She chose her words wisely, explaining how Richard might have been intimidated by Marcus’s domineering behaviour, emphasising how reserved he was about showing his feelings, pointed out how he might have felt a little lonely because everyone around him was having fun, but it was to no avail.

Camille just shook her head and said miserably “You know, I thought that he - he liked me… and maybe even more than that, but… oh, I don’t know. And now I’ve blown it.”

Juliet objected “But Camille, I know he likes you. I’ve seen him looking at you. It’s just that he’s been by himself for so long, and he’s not young any more. I mean, he’s not old – but he’s over 40, and maybe he’s just scared. It takes courage to admit that you have feelings for someone. It makes you defenceless and vulnerable. He might not want that. He might feel safer if he stays on his own. You don’t know what he might have experienced in the past… Whatever, don’t be so disheartened. I’m sure you’ll work it all out. Just give him a chance to come round…”

Camille sighed and shook her head. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

Juliet looked at her in astonishment and asked incredulously “Did he say that?”

“Well, not precisely like that,” Camille conceded. “He said he doesn’t want to see any of us before Monday morning… But Juliet, wouldn’t he want to straighten things out if they bothered him as much as they bother me? The only logical conclusion is that he doesn’t care.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and she asked “How am I supposed to work with him under those circumstances?”

Juliet had no answer to that. They sat in silence for a moment, then Camille got up, squared her shoulders and said determinedly “I’d better go now. Thank you, Juliet – I feel better now. I don’t know how to deal with the situation yet, but time will tell. I suppose I’ll just take one day at a time. It depends on his behaviour… I guess I’ll see on Monday.” She picked up her handbag and heaved a big sigh. “Say goodnight to Fidel for me…”

She bent down again to hug her friend and said softly “Don’t bother to show me out – I know the way. And thanks again. I really appreciate your support!”

******************

Sunday came, and Camille received a phone call from Marcus again just before noon. He informed her that David and Erin would be leaving for Antigua together in the afternoon. Sandy’s flight as well as his own had been cancelled – he had decided to stay on Saint Marie with her for as long as she needed him. Sandy had had to stay in hospital for the night – just for observation. She was emotionally exhausted, and she didn’t really want to talk to him at the moment, but she hadn’t objected when he had asked if he could stay with her.

So, all he had been able to do was watch over the doctors’ actions and sit by her side. She had slept much of the time, but the doctors had said that it wasn’t so much physical exhaustion as she hadn’t been lost in the woods for very long – it was more a matter of being emotionally burnt out.

“I had no idea,” Marcus said. “You know, she always seemed so balanced and in tune with herself. I don’t know what it is that bothers her, but I’ll find out, and I’ll do everything to support her.” Then he added with a small voice “Mind you, Camille, all the things she said about me being horrible… are they true?”

Camille forgot that he had annoyed her so enormously over the past few days – her heart went out to him in light of his despondency. She could so relate to his feelings at the moment… He was waiting for her reply, and she said compassionately “Oh Marcus, you can be such a pain in the neck. But you aren’t horrible, and she didn’t say that, either. All she said was that you can be domineering and self-assured, and you know that’s true. But you know what strikes me as funny? You’re such a likeable man, self-confident, intelligent and all that, and women come in flocks to worship at your feet – and you don’t care one bit about them and blind them all with your charms. But when it comes to the one you care about – you make a terrible mess!”

When she had hung up, she mused glumly that this sounded a lot like her own situation. All her blind dates had been moonstruck with her, and it had been so easy for her to flirt with them… but when it came to the only man that really counted, she had made a mess.


	12. No Way Out?

Monday came, and neither Camille nor Richard had found a solution for their muddled situation. So, they did what they thought was best – ignore the whole thing. But naturally, that was difficult, and the following days were agonizing for everyone at the Honoré Police Station. Due to their mutual insecurity, combined with a good portion of stubborness on both sides, Richard and Camille were what they thought was professional and polite, but they were extremely wary of one another, and the entire team suffered.

There was no fun, no joking, no playful bickering between them... Just reserved, almost cold civility. Fidel and Dwayne hated the situation. They wondered if there was anything they could do to help, but they couldn’t think of anything.

Richard was upset. Surprisingly enough, he couldn’t figure out what they had been arguing about. He only knew that they had quarrelled for some stupid reason. And he was annoyed because he couldn’t understand that Camille hadn’t realised how Sandy had been feeling. It had been so clear to him, and Camille had always claimed that women could read other women – that obviously was plain rubbish. She and her famous intuition… It might work well in many situations, but in this case, it had failed her completely.

His own feelings were another story – that he didn’t intend to discuss with her, though. No, he’d get over that eventually. Feelings were overrated, anyway. But hadn’t she noticed how her indifference towards him during the party had hurt him? Obviously not. It had all started off so nicely with the playful conversations during dinner, and he had felt that Camille had enjoyed sitting with him and the others, even if they hadn’t had a chance to talk much. She had looked amazing, and just seeing her had made his heart beat faster – an embarrassing fact, but he couldn’t help it, she had been so beautiful… and when she had smiled at him once, she had beamed… as if she had been really happy to see him.

Then the music had started, and from there, it had all gone downhill. For a while, he had enjoyed watching everyone dancing, and the food had been really delicious, so he hadn’t cared so much. But then the DJ had played the tango, Marcus and Camille had enchanted everyone with their dancing, and he recalled now how useless and painfully lonely he had felt.

Parties had never been his scene, and this one had been no exception. He had originally thought it might pan out better this time... Of course, it had also been his own fault – he shouldn’t have expected anything special. In all honesty, it hadn’t even been that bad – it could have been much worse! – it had only been so difficult because he had felt so inept and ignored. And she had been out of this world – there hadn’t been any way around that insight.

He wondered for a moment how it would all have ended if Sandy had not felt overwhelmed and they had not left the room and danced on the veranda. Would Camille have taken him home? Would they have had a beer or some wine on his veranda and talked? Would she perhaps have noticed that it could be nice just to sit and enjoy each other’s company?

But it was pointless to dwell on this. He knew that he had done the right thing – Sandy had deserved better than getting shoved around and feeling sad. Just like him, she had needed a break.

To be quite honest, he knew very well that he would never have mustered up the courage to ask Camille for a dance. And after having seen her with Marcus and having rescued Sandy from her misery, he hadn’t been in the mood for it any more, anyway – if he had ever seriously considered asking her…

If anything, he had realised over the time since Marcus’s arrival that he had been a fool to believe that there had been anything like real affection behind her visits at his shack over the past few months. No, she had clearly just come out of boredom. The conversations they had had – they hadn’t meant anything to her. And all the nice little rituals that they had developed, the treats they had exchanged… they hadn’t meant that she cared for him. That all had just been a game for her, born out of ‘ennui’, as the French said, and she had manipulated him – just for fun.

And he had thought he could trust her… But he wouldn’t let this make him bitter. Although it hurt. Badly. Actually, come to think about it, it had only proved that he had been right not to trust people in the first place…

He’d file it under experiences, and continue to live his life. On his own. Yes, that would be what he’d do… And he’d be fine.

**************

Camille was desperate and unhappy. She had cried more during the past few days than she had during the last five years put together. She felt that she had messed up, and she had no idea what she could do to make amends – not that she felt it was her turn to make amends, but even so, she couldn’t think of anything without losing face.

She would not grovel. No, she wouldn’t.

It was not that she wanted to give up, but she didn’t know how to proceed from here…

For a brief moment she had considered getting a treat for him and writing a note – but that didn’t seem the appropriate thing to do. This was more serious than their previous arguments.

And what should she write him in a note? ‘I was a fool, and I’m sorry’? No. She was no fool, and she wasn’t really sorry… Or was she? Wait, this needed clarification: She wasn’t sorry for confronting him – she was only sorry for how she had done it. When she had gone to see him, she had known that part of the problem had been her own behaviour during the party – Richard had felt excluded, like the odd man out – something that he supposedly had left behind a little while ago. But her and Marcus’s ‘performance’ had made him realise – whether it was the truth or not – that he still was an outcast, a misfit.

She shouldn’t have gone to visit him on the day after the party. She had been rattled, and she had got carried away in her anger – but really, upon closer reflection… did she have any right to be angry?

She had been jealous, yes, and she had been insecure. But given the fact that they were ‘only’ friends, she couldn’t reveal any of that, not then, and not now, either… particularly considering his current conduct. He was so cold towards her…

She understood now that she had been more edgy than she had admitted to herself – and that had led her to being too overbearing in her approach. She hadn’t respected the boundaries he had set. But there was no way she could turn back the clock… and she would have to live with what she had brought upon herself.

If any other man had spoken to her like that, she would have written him off instantly. But with him, everything was different.

The truth was that she really had no right to have a go at him. He didn’t owe her anything, and he wasn’t accountable to her. It was just that she had begun to see him as ‘hers’ over the past few months – although she hadn’t known how, she had been sure they would ‘get together’ eventually, and he couldn’t resist her charms for much longer. She had taken it for granted that he would fall for her. And actually, she had hoped that they could maybe get closer that evening at the Commissioner’s house. She had missed him. There hadn’t been any time to see him outside of work while Marcus and his friends were around – hadn’t he understood this?

Now that she thought about it, though, she could understand why he had been a little hurt. She had spent quite some time at his place during the past few months, and when Marcus, David and Sandy had arrived, this had changed abruptly. But then again – hadn’t he realised that this was an exceptional situation… Of course, this wouldn’t go on forever! Hadn’t he understood that she’d certainly return to her routine of visiting him again once they had gone?

When she had come to this point, she remembered that he had accused her of having visited him out of boredom – so resuming her visits again after Marcus’s departure would have corroborated his suspicion.

She couldn’t win.

It had been she who had driven him away – she could see that now. That and the fact that it had been Sandy and not her whom he had held in his arms… that was more than she could bear.

She still wasn’t sure if he had danced with Sandy because he had fallen for her or if it had happened for the reason that he had stated – that Sandy had felt left out. Fact was… he had been upset with her, and while he shouldn’t have spoken to her like that, his irritability hadn’t been completely unjustified.

She knew all that, but it didn’t change a thing. She still felt insecure and jealous. Neither feeling was very comfortable… The insecurity paralysed her, and just the thought of Richard holding Sandy, of Sandy pressing her body against his, of him burying his face in her hair made her as cross as two sticks. No, no, no – it should have been her, not Sandy! A mix of anger, jealousy and insecurity had taken hold of her.

On top of this quagmire of emotions, she now felt hopeless, too – the situation was a complete muddle after all that had happened, and there was no way she could rectify the chaos.

What did you do when you had smashed everything unwittingly and wanted to make amends without losing face?

Given his present aloofness, not only was the ‘I’ll get a treat for you’ idea out of the question, she couldn’t go to his place, either, and try to talk to him. Most likely, he would only haughtily see her off the premises with a far-fetched apology, like ‘I’m really very busy right now, Camille, could you please leave me alone’ or something even more straightforward. She could almost hear him saying it… No, she didn’t want to go through a humiliation like that.

She realised that his cold civility was the worst thing ever. And she wondered if they could ever go back to the easy familiarity that they had shared during the evenings at his shack. She wanted that more than anything else in the world. But she couldn’t just walk up to him and say “Let’s be friends again”. They weren’t in kindergarten any more where you could reconcile fairly easily after a row. This had been too much of a jumble, too serious an incident… you couldn’t patch things up with a mere platitude after a situation like that.

Finally, Camille decided that she had no choice but to keep quiet and sit it out. At least for the moment.

Time was a great healer. If they kept talking and seeing each other at work, maybe things would get back to normal again after a while? Maybe one day, she’d wake up and this nightmare would be over.

**************

In the meantime, Sandy and Marcus had made efforts to reconcile. She had been released from hospital on Sunday afternoon and returned to the Commissioner’s guesthouse. When she had hobbled into the familiar room, she had looked around, surprised that everything still looked the same.

She had turned to Marcus who had been standing in the doorway and said gently “Thank you, Marcus.” He had just nodded, unsure of what to say. She had seen the confusion in his eyes. She had bitten her lip and put forward hesitantly “I think… I think I owe you an explanation…”

And they had finally sat down and talked.

She had had a sleepless night after the party and had half-decided to give up on the joint practice, go back to the States and cut off all ties with him. As a qualified professional, she’d find a job.

Above all, she hadn’t wanted to suffer any longer. Their painful arguments during the hike and the drive along the cliff road had cemented her decision. His possessiveness had disturbed her because she had felt it was only based on his pride being hurt. She knew only too well that setbacks and failures didn’t fit into his image of himself as the successful and charismatic man.

But during the long hours she had spent in her hospital bed she had realised that he actually really cared about her. He had remained by her side and respected her lack of communication – all he had wanted was being with her. He had even held her hand and said that he loved her – she had pretended to be asleep, but she had heard him… it had sounded so desperate and vulnerable, she just had to believe it. And didn’t it speak volumes that he had only dared to say it when he had thought she couldn’t hear him…

This all had given her the courage to speak. And Marcus had listened. He had been determined to follow Camille’s original advice – and it had turned out to be just perfect!

“And why did you say you couldn’t bear seeing me everyday?” he had asked eventually when she had finished. He had tried hard not to sound reproachful. “I thought you hated me when you said that…”

“Oh Marcus… can’t you understand that it would have been torture for me? I’ve loved you for so many years, and seeing you every day, knowing that you didn’t care for me – well, not in the way that I wanted you to care – that would have killed me… It seemed more sensible to go away and start over without you or David!”

Marcus had moved over to sit on the couch with her. Almost shyly, he had taken her hands in his and said “I’ve been a complete idiot, Sandy. So blind, it’s unbelievable. And honestly, I don’t know why you’re still talking to me after I’ve hurt you so badly and acted so thoughtlessly. But I promise, I’ll make it up to you if you let me!”

Her smile had been full of tenderness when she had answered “Well, I guess I might give it a try, if you insist…” And as Marcus had leant over to finally kiss her, she had sent a silent ‘thank you’ in Richard Poole’s direction. Without him, she’d never have mustered up the courage to make a decision – and even if things had turned out differently now from what she had expected them to be like… this had all happened because of Richard being so full of empathy and understanding about her situation. Thanks to him, she had understood that she couldn’t go on this way… He had proved to be a true friend.

So, it all had ended well for Sandy and Marcus.

They were so lost in their new-found happiness that it took them a few days to realise that others were perhaps worried about them and wondered how they might be doing…

***********

It was Wednesday when Marcus finally showed up at the station to take Camille out for lunch and tell her what had happened. On that occasion, he also returned the blanket - ignoring Richard’s glare as valiantly as he could - and handed him an envelope, too. He said a little stiffly “From Sandy, for you…” Richard nodded curtly, thanked him and put the envelope in the pocket of his jacket without any further comment.

Sandy had assured Marcus that Richard had only been a supportive friend and that there wasn’t anything deeper behind their mutual affection. He knew she was speaking the truth about her own feelings, but it seemed to him that Richard might feel differently. The stand-offish behaviour towards him – Marcus - that he had shown when they had all been searching for Sandy had spoken a different language… and he certainly was great at glowering at people he disapproved of… Camille obviously had gone loopy – Marcus felt that it was completely beyond him to figure out what his old friend saw in this stuffed shirt. But after all, there was no accounting for taste, and it was none of his business – if this man was who she wanted, then he wished her all the best…

Camille didn’t talk about her issues with Richard during lunch. She knew it wouldn’t be of any use to discuss this with Marcus – he couldn’t help her, and it wasn’t that important to him, anyway. So, when he asked her how she was doing, she just shrugged and said “Fine. So, tell me, what’s new? How’s Sandy doing?”

She was genuinely happy to hear that Sandy and Marcus had found the courage to talk and sort things out – and that their love had been stronger than the issues they had had. That was one problem off the list…

Now, if only she could find a way to fix the situation with Richard… but he was just as unapproachable and cold these days as he had been when she had first met him. Worse than that, actually. The rift between them seemed unbridgeable.

What had been in the mysterious envelope? How would he feel when he learnt that Marcus and Sandy were a couple now? He had once described himself as ‘an open book’, but really, that wasn’t true. He was a complicated man. And if she knew what was good for her, she’d stay away from him… but the mere thought of letting go and trying to forget him made her only gloomier.

When she returned to the station, Dwayne asked if there was any interesting news. She replied casually “Oh, it’s all rainbows, fairies and unicorns… Marcus and Sandy just got engaged, and they will leave for Antigua tonight to join Erin and David… Marcus will keep me posted on what happens then.”

Fidel and Dwayne seemed pleased with the news, but Camille hardly listened to their comments. She furtively looked over to Richard to see how he’d react, but he wore his usual pokerface and just said “Well, that’s good to hear. All’s well that ends well, I guess.” With that, he turned back to his computer and continued to tap away.

Camille sighed, retrieved a tissue and blew her nose. When she threw it in the bin, she saw Sandy’s envelope there – neatly opened on one side. No hint of what had been inside…

Richard had put the clean and neatly ironed handkerchief into his briefcase, along with Sandy’s note…. All it said was “Richard: Thanks for everything – in friendship, Sandy”.

Well, at least Sandy had got what she had wanted… that was a relief, and personally, he was happy to hear the news.

A little worried, he stole a secret glance at Camille. Hadn’t her voice sounded brittle? Was she sad because Marcus had discovered his love for Sandy and the two of them were engaged to be married?

If she was, she didn’t show it. If she didn’t say anything about it, he could just ignore the whole thing and hope that she didn’t suffer too much. She looked drawn and tired these days, anyway.

Little by little, the anger had faded, and his feelings had shifted. He really wished he hadn’t said all those things to her. They had both been in such a rage… he had no idea why they had come to that point at all. They had both been hurt… she had accused him of pushing her away, and he had accused her of ignoring him… it had been ridiculous.

But wait, if that was what they had been so angry about… where was the point? Marcus and Sandy weren’t the point – or was it ‘points’? For a moment his pedantic nature got distracted by whether it was singular or plural in that context… He shoved that thought aside, though, and focused on the original subject – what was the point of their argument? It seemed that they both had accused each other for spending time with someone else. That sounded extremely ridiculous.

And he realised there was a word for it – jealousy.

But why would Camille be jealous? It was not as if she wanted him, after all. As far as he was concerned – yes, he had been jealous. Embarrassing idea, but yes, it was true.

However, it had been more than just that. It had been the general feeling of being betrayed, of being left behind… just when he had tentatively tried to believe that they really were friends, and there was perhaps a tiny little chance that she’d see more in him with time.

But the most important question (that he had no answer for): How did you patch things up after something like that? If he apologised – would she forgive him? But what exactly should he apologise for? Yes, he had said hurtful things, but she had been quite nasty, too. All he had wanted was for her to shut up and leave him alone so he could lick his wounds and get on with life the way he had known it for the past 40+ years.

But really, did he want to continue living the life he had known? His stay on Saint Marie had changed his stance, slowly but surely.

He felt that everything was different after this clash with Camille… He admitted to himself that he missed their banter, their little squabbles, their conversations, their companionable silence. He missed her.

Yes, he still was attracted to her. He still wanted her, and he still didn’t want to want her. He wanted to be alone – but then again, maybe not. He didn’t know any more.

The truth was… the past few days had been so dull, the evenings had been boring and lonely. He hadn’t had the nerve to go for a drink with his team. And the nights hadn’t been peaceful, either.

Those dreams still had come to haunt him, and when he hadn’t dreamt, he had tossed and turned in his bed, wide awake, feeling despicable and miserable. He hadn’t even managed to muster up the energy to take showers.

So, he spent his nights suffering – in one way or another.

How silly of him to think that he’d be happy if he got his old life back…

*****************

After work, Camille drove Fidel home. She was fairly sure that Juliet had told him about her emotional outburst the other day – fortunately, he hadn’t said anything! That would only have made everything worse. She didn’t want to talk about this!

She felt a little guilty for making Dwayne and Fidel suffer like that – she knew that the atmosphere at the station currently was awful for them. Richard’s distant aloofness didn’t help, either…

They hadn’t even met up at La Kaz any more this week. Fidel was glad to spend his evenings at home, and Dwayne had spent time with friends – partying somewhere or going to the gym with them. And Richard had excused himself on feeble pretexts. Camille knew that he was avoiding her. But never mind. After all, she was avoiding him, too.

Wistfully, she thought once again of the evenings they had spent together at his shack. They seemed like a lifetime away now…

When they arrived, Juliet came out. She had racked her brain, trying to come up with an idea to set things right again, but to no avail... until today a random thought had crossed her mind and shaped up into a full-blown plan all by itself… Initially she had had a few doubts, but then had decided to go for it, anyway.

It couldn’t possibly get any worse, could it!

So, she approached the car and asked “Got any plans for Saturday afternoon, Camille?” She shook her head and said “Not yet. Anything you need help with?” “No, no,” Juliet smiled. “We want to have a barbecue in the afternoon – we’d start at around five and finish around Rosie’s bedtime, so it wouldn’t go on forever… Wouldn’t you like to come? I mean, it won’t be spectacular… just a little get-together with friends…”

Camille hesitated, but then she thought it might do her good - and with a little smile, she accepted the invitation. That would give her something to look forward to – and she’d be away from Maman’s prying eyes. She had wondered why her daughter was so subdued… Camille had kept her mouth shut, but her mother’s questions – albeit asked out of concern – were wearing her out. It hadn’t escaped Catherine’s attention that her daughter had been unusually subdued lately, and she had wondered if anything serious had happened. Of course, she knew that Camille was concerned because of the accident and Sandy’s sprained ankle, but that couldn’t be all… However, Camille hadn’t answered her questions – she had been evasive, vague and deliberately non-committal.

This invitation would distract her, and Catherine would be happy that Camille went out again…

When she was gone, Fidel raised his eyebrows and said “A barbecue! Now, that’s news to me! Listen, Juliet, I don’t know what your plan is, but I don’t think I like that look in your eyes.” His wife laughed. “Thank you for not giving me away, Fidel… that was very good of you! You are right, I have a plan, and this is what we’ll do…”

They went inside, and when she explained her idea, he laughed a little sceptically and said “That’s insane, Juliet. You don’t really believe it’s going to work?”

“It’s worth trying,” she said.

******************

It was Saturday afternoon. Richard had done his housework, and it was time to get ready now... He changed into something clean and comfortable and shut down the shack. Then he left his house and went up the dust road to look out for Dwayne who had promised to pick him up.

It was nice of Fidel to invite him to the barbecue. No doubt Camille would be there as well – he wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but maybe this get-together would help and they’d get back to some ‘normality’ – the tension this past week had been awful. If they got together in a harmless circle like this, it would perhaps dissipate. Not that it was a very logical idea – but he was ready to try anything at this point.

Camille had entertained similar thoughts. She had admitted to herself that she couldn’t bear living in a strife with Richard. Her feelings for him hadn’t changed, and she didn’t want to give up on him.

But what could she do? Her visit with him after the party had gone so wrong, and she was honestly scared of making a mistake again now. A little nervously, she got ready for the barbecue. She put on a knee-length black skirt and a soft mint-green blouse with short puffy sleeves… that wouldn’t look all dolled up, but it wouldn’t be too mousy, either. It couldn’t hurt to look good – that would give her a little more self-confidence.

It wasn’t an easy evening. No matter how hard they tried to behave normally, everyone noticed that Richard and Camille were very cautious and guarded with one another. They were polite, but they weren’t at ease… no matter how much they tried to hide it, they were tense and deeply insecure about how to behave. It was obvious that they suffered – even Fidel had to admit that. Hadn’t he been such a reasonable man, he would have wanted to bang their heads together.

More than once he noticed how Richard watched Camille with longing glances – and then – maybe out of insecurity? - turned away and got all grandiose and pompous when she approached him tentatively. By the same token, Camille observed Richard from beneath her lashes, waiting for the right moment to throw in a word or two in a conversation and offering him small olive branches in the shape of food that she had put together on a plate for him, a cushion for his chair or a citronella candle next to him that would keep the bugs away. The Chief took the food, refused the cushion and silently acknowledged the candle, and Fidel felt that his boss was struggling to find the right words – but never got further than saying “Thank you”… in his most formal voice. The light in Camille’s eyes faded more and more until it finally died down and she gave up.

Juliet sighed as she watched them from the corner of her eye. “It’s been like that all week – only colder,” Dwayne whispered. “I can see why you and Fidel are so frustrated,” she replied softly. “Well, we’ll give them a nudge, just wait and see…”

Dwayne looked at her, his eyebrows arched. “I don’t know what you have in store, but I don’t think I like that look in your eyes…” he said. Juliet giggled and said “Fidel said the same thing... It may be an unusual approach, but it could work. They are so scared of making a wrong move that they don’t move at all. I’ll give them something to think about.”

Dwayne shrugged and said “Okay. Just tell me what my part in this is. As long as they get this sorted out, I’ll be happy. The past week has been pretty awful, and I’m fed up with having to tiptoe around them. I want them to be normal again. Whatever that is!”

“Thank you, Dwayne. Here is what I’d like you to do…” She pulled him into the kitchen and explained her plan. Dwayne sniggered and said “It’s crazy. But as it is, desperate times call for desperate measures. So, why not – I’m on board.”

He took the tools she handed him and quietly slipped out of the front door. A few minutes later he was back, giving her a ‘thumbs up’. She nodded, and they exchanged a conspiratorial smile.

**************

Rosie’s bedtime approached, and the food was all polished off. Dwayne stretched demonstratively and said “I’ll hit the road now. I have a date later on, so…” He got up, hugged Juliet and complimented her on the food. Then, he gave Fidel a hearty smack on the shoulder and said “Thanks, man – that was a fun idea!”

Only when he heard the roaring of the bike zipping away, Richard realised that his means of transport was gone… He got a little nervous. That would mean he’d either have to get a cab, or Camille would take him home. He wasn’t sure what he preferred…

Camille got nervous, too. She had the feeling that Juliet and Fidel had planned all this, but as much as she appreciated their support, she also worried about messing up once again. Her self-confidence had received a major blow over the past weeks, and she wasn’t sure she could deal with another failure. If that happened, the lights would be out for good – she knew that much.

Juliet glanced at Fidel, and he got up and said “Yes, you’re right. It’s time for Rosie…” Camille took her cue and said “Well, I guess it’s time for me as well… thank you for the nice evening… it’s always fun to spend quality time with friends. Are you going to stay, or would you like a ride home, sir?” She had turned to Richard now. Juliet raised her eyebrows. Camille had consistently avoided addressing Richard all evening long, and hearing her use the formal “sir” didn’t bode well. They definitely needed a push…

Richard said hesitantly “I could get a cab, if it’s too much for you to drive out…” His house was at the other end of Honoré, and it would take over 15 minutes to get there… 15 minutes of silence between them. Well, at least it wouldn’t be 15 minutes of hostility – she hadn’t been so cold tonight. Though… who knew, it might all have been fake to keep the waters calm…

Oh, this was agony. He wanted this nightmare to be over. Couldn’t they just be friends again? Or whatever they had been before this horrible quarrel…

“As you wish,” she said. “But you know how unreliable the cabs are on a Saturday evening…” He conceded that she had a point and got up. Juliet and Fidel – who carried Rosie on his arm - waved them goodbye – then she turned to him and said “I hope Dwayne’s craftmansship hasn’t failed him…”

She checked her watch and said “Five minutes!” They went inside, and Fidel shook his head. “You’re mad,” he said. “I know,” Juliet retorted. “That’s why you married me!”

He chuckled and replied “You’ve got a point there!”


	13. Moment of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter - enjoy :-) Many thanks once more to left_to_write for beta-reading (and teaching me so much about grammar etc.) - I've learnt a lot along the way and hope to remember it for future writing projects! - As always, feedback is welcome!

They would have driven in silence - if only Camille could have shut off the radio. There was no way to control the volume, either, and it seemed they couldn’t even switch to another radio station. Richard fiddled around with the knobs, but to no avail. The radio could only be silenced if you cut all power – and they wouldn’t get anywhere that way. There were no CDs in the glove compartment or anywhere else, either, so they were stuck with the radio playing.

Initially, Camille was sorely tempted to put her Swiss army knife to good use and cut off the connection. She muttered “I don’t know how that happened… it worked fine all week long.”

Richard remarked “We could rip out the wires, but is it really worth it?” He looked at her, the dim light of the dashboard left most of his face in the shadow, but Camille could see the waryness and insecurity in his face as he spoke “Mind you, I suppose we’d best sit through this and see if we can get it fixed next week. It’s not a long drive, anyway…”

It was the first time in days that he didn’t avoid her, but looked her directly in the eyes for a moment, and Camille was thankful for being firmly planted in her seat. Her knees felt like jelly suddenly – oh, how she wished they could reconcile, and they’d be friends again. Or whatever. But this shilly-shallying was killing her…

She decided to ignore her knees for the moment and focus on driving. Fortunately, the volume of the music was moderate, so it was bearable. The local radio station was broadcasting the popular programme “Saturday Night Lounge with Sammy” – a mix of chit-chat, quizzes and songs – mostly oldies - requested by the audience. Not what Richard usually would have listened to, but at least they wouldn’t have to struggle making conversation. They could have talked, but the radio gave them a good excuse to forgo doing so.

So, they drove along in the darkness. It wasn’t late yet, but it gets dark early in the Caribbean… a fact that had taken Richard some time to get used to.

After a few minutes, the tension eased up a little, also because of the relaxing ‘feelgood’ music. Miami Sound Machine was on, playing ‘Bad Boy’, and Camille hummed along.

Then, the host – Sammy – spoke up and said “Well, and this was ‘Bad Boy’ by Miami Sound Machine – from Arabella for her husband Tony – she says in her e-mail it’s their 20th wedding anniversary today... – that makes you wonder what kind of husband Tony is, huh,” Sammy joked. Camille giggled. Richard raised his eyebrows and muttered “Indeed… Not that we’d care, though…” Camille shot him a quick sideways glance. Was that an attempt at making conversation? But no, he didn’t say more…

“And before we’ll talk to one of our loyal fans…” - Richard groaned inwardly: those chats always were infinitely boring and embarrassing! - “we’ll play her song. Here’s the popular band Heart from the US with one of their number one smash hits from the 80s… enjoy!”

The sound of a piano filled the air. A female voice sang softly and melodiously “I hear the ticking of the clock, I'm lying here - the room's pitch dark… I wonder where you are tonight… No answer on the telephone… And the night goes by so very slow – oh, I hope that it won't end though…” – then the singer’s voice boomed out in a cry… “Alone!”

Richard had goosebumps. He knew the song. It had been a big hit in the late 80s, and its intensity and the incredibly amazing voice of the performer had always touched him. He hadn’t heard it in years, though…

It seemed like the singer was describing his lonely, sleepless nights. Oh yes, he knew everything about nights that went by ‘so very slow’…

Camille had gone all quiet and listened to the voice continuing “Till now I always got by on my own - I never really cared until I met you! And now it chills me to the bone… How do I get you alone… How do I get you alone…”

She knew this feeling. She hadn’t cared about any of the men she had met over the past years, and it had been fine with her. Until he had come along, annoyed her no end and made her fall for him, little by little, and against all odds.

Richard squirmed in his seat. He knew what was next, and it was uncanny how the first part matched his feelings… “You don't know how long I have wanted to touch your lips and hold you tight, oh… - You don't know how long I have waited… And I was going to tell you tonight. But the secret is still my own…And my love for you is still unknown – alone…”

Neither of them spoke a word. They let the music wash over them and drove on through the night. All the despair, agony and helplessness that the song conveyed resonated with them… and each of them was scared that the other might notice.

When the song was over, Sammy’s voice came in again “Wow, that’s one powerful ballad, huh! And here’s the lovely lady who requested this song… hello Juliet!”

They had reached the dirt road heading to the beach now. Camille turned right, almost in a daze. She slowed down due to the dubious driving conditions.

Sammy was asking now “So, who’s that song for, Juliet? Your husband?”

And there was Juliet’s familiar sweet voice – shy, but as clear as crystal… she answered with a soft laugh “No, no… that’s not for him. This is for a dear girlfriend of mine who’s currently out on the road with someone special.”

Camille inhaled sharply, and Richard looked at the radio, incredulously. That couldn’t be true, could it?

“Her boyfriend, maybe?” Sammy interjected.

“No, not her boyfriend… she’s been single for a while already. No one has ever come along that she’s been interested in…” said Juliet. “But I know with this man it’s different. It’s someone… she really cares about. And she means a lot to him as well. The past few weeks have been… difficult, and last weekend, something happened – I don’t know what exactly, but I think they had a huge row… - and although they still talk, it’s tense. Neither dares to make a move, for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing and cause more hurt.”

She paused. Then she continued haltingly “They’re scared to death of making a mistake, and they’re both alone in their pain… And… it’s heart wrenching to see them like that. I – I thought this song might remind them that no matter how scared you are, no matter how much you worry about making a mistake… sometimes you’ve got to make a move towards one another… and talk. Openly and honestly. Silence can make things so much worse… that’s my message for them…”

“Oh, what an amazing testimony of friendship that is, Juliet – you really care about them, don’t you! I’m sure your friends appreciate the gesture,” Sammy said, sounding entirely genuine.

Juliet sighed. “I hope so. They deserve to be happy, they just need to pluck up the courage and talk about their feelings.”

“Thank you so much, Juliet – and best of luck to your friends! Come on, you folks out there on the road, get your act together, so Juliet can relax again!”

They had reached the beach now. Camille shut off the engine, and the radio died down. For a moment, they both remained sitting, in stunned silence. Then Camille turned to Richard and blurted out in a panic “I had no idea, Richard – really, I didn’t know she’d do that… Please, believe me!”

Richard didn’t reply. In a frenzy, he tried to get out of the car, but the door seemed blocked and wouldn’t open. “What is it with this goddamn car?” he finally exploded. “What is it with this godforsaken, benighted, back-of-beyond island altogether? Why can’t people just leave me alone… oh, for Christ’s sake!”

Finally, he managed to thrust the door open. He jumped out and slammed the door shut behind him.

With big steps he marched off to his shack. He didn’t look back. Camille watched him disappearing in the darkness. Her head sank down on her hands that were clinging to the steering wheel. She felt tears stinging in her eyes.

He had done it again. He had walked away from her. How could she ever reach him if he didn’t let her come closer?

It was over – she knew it. How could she ever face him again? Oh Juliet, what have you done…

******************

Richard felt shame and rage flooding his body. Was it so obvious that Camille was important to him? Difficult enough for him that she was, but how had he betrayed his feelings? Had others noticed how much he wanted things to be different sometimes - while he wasn’t so sure at other times? Was he everybody’s laughing stock once again? Did he appear so desperate that well-meaning but clueless people felt they had to ‘help’ him – and of all the stupid, idiotic, harebrained things they could do they had picked calling a radio station and making his misery public…

He knew instinctively that Camille had nothing to do with this – she had been just as shocked as him. What had come over Juliet to do that? And this jackass of a radio host had called it a ‘testimony of friendship’.

Richard snorted in disdain. Friendship – bah! Who needed friends, anyway…

But then an unexpected thought crossed his mind… and his steps slowed down until they came to a halt.

The feeling of shame and rage ebbed off a little, and he recalled how miserable and lonely he had been feeling this past week. How everything had seemed so much less sparkly and vibrant because of the coldness between him and Camille. How he had wished they could return to their previous friendship…

Well, maybe Juliet had a point. And since she hadn’t mentioned any names… maybe his misery wasn’t all that public after all – maybe only the close circle of his team was aware of it? Bad enough, but not the end of the world… Maybe he was blowing it out of proportion… - highly unlikely, of course, but a possibility…

Most importantly, though… did Camille really, honestly care about him? And if she did… how could she know that he also cared if he kept walking away from her…? No, of course, he didn’t want to need anyone, but wasn’t that out of fear of getting hurt again? He hadn’t wanted anybody to get close so they couldn’t hurt him… so he had always walked away once things had become ‘dangerous’ or ‘complicated’. And then he had sulked in his corner, feeling neglected and left out – but wanting nothing more than someone would come along to help him out. Wasn’t that a bit… he didn’t quite know how to put it, but wasn’t that a bit – unreasonable? Not exactly ‘childish’… maybe ‘immature’ was a more appropriate word, but whatever he called it, it wasn’t a particularly clever behaviour pattern.

In a flash, similar to the lightbulb moments that he usually had when he was on a case, he understood that if he kept doing the same thing, he’d keep getting the same result, and the cycle would never be broken. He’d stay alone, nobody would hurt him, but nobody would share his life, love and understand him, despite all his quirks, either. He’d end up a lonely, weird old fogey. Did he want this? Was this his idea of a good life?

And what if Juliet was indeed right, and Camille felt the same way about him as he did about her – as unlikely as it seemed – and was suffering because she cared for him and couldn’t get through to him because of his silence and ostensible aloofness (that was really only insecurity, as he reluctantly admitted to himself)… wouldn’t even a self-confident, positive, spirited person like Camille give up eventually?

What if they could never regain their old camaraderie, their friendship… and maybe move on beyond that… - not that this was very likely, after all, but life worked in mysterious ways, so who knew! - just because he wouldn’t give them a chance to sort this out? He might lose her forever. All at once, he felt very cold.

‘Forever’ sounded pretty bad… bad enough for him to reconsider his actions…

He glanced over his shoulder, suddenly panicking and fearing she might already have driven off and left him.

But no… the Defender was still there. She hadn’t driven off. Was she perhaps waiting for him to… should he…?

Yes. He’d do it. He might never get another chance. And if it went wrong, so be it… He took a deep breath, turned around and made a first hesitant step forward.

***************

Camille’s head was still resting on the knuckles of her clenched fists holding on to the steering wheel – she was breathing heavily and desperately trying to hold back the tears, surprised that she still had any left. She had cried too much already over this man.

It was pointless, they’d never get anywhere.

She knew now that she couldn’t stay and keep working with him, pretending everything was fine. She’d hand in her resignation first thing Monday morning. Or she’d call the Commissioner first thing tomorrow, ask for leave of absence and then request a transfer… That must have been how Sandy had felt all the time – with Marcus being so close and yet so far away from her. Camille suppressed a sob.

All of a sudden, her door was ripped open, and she heard Richard hissing “So, alright… you care about me? And you’re scared? You know what, Camille… I’m scared, too!” She lifted her head and gawped at him in shock.

He grabbed her wrist and went on impatiently as he pulled her out of the car “Now, get out of there. We can’t talk when you sit in here like you were on a blasted ghost train, staring at me as if I was Frankenstein’s monster…”

She followed him to the shack, dumbfounded and wide-eyed. A lamp was on at one corner of the house and cast a dim light on the veranda.

“Sit down,” he demanded. She sank down in one of the veranda chairs, not sure what would be next, and started gently rubbing her wrist. His grip had been a little rough.

He was pacing up and down now, clearly unnerved and beside himself. The last thing he wanted was talk. He’d much rather hide in his shack. Or run away. But well, he’d see this through, for better or for worse… He couldn’t go on like this. He had run away too often already. The past few weeks had been awful, and they had to sort it out somehow. The idea of losing her if he kept quiet once again had just scared him out of his wits, and he had to act – as long as he still had the courage.

Turning around abruptly to face her, he noticed how she was massaging her wrist and said ruefully “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” she answered, slightly nervously. “I don’t break easily.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and took up the thread again. His voice was choked and a little unsteady now. It was obvious that he was feeling extremely uncomfortable when he said “Listen, Camille… I don’t know what has come over Juliet to ask for this song, but it doesn’t matter now. It seems that… well, she’s got a point, silence doesn’t always help, and with things being the way they are… oh well, some issues just won’t sort themselves out, without any – er – additional effort, I mean. But you know that I’ve never… I mean, talking about… um – personal things… isn’t easy for me… and I’ve never been good at showing people how I feel… unless it’s anger or frustration…”

He shot her a nervous glance, trying to figure out what to say next. She just looked at him, waiting, and when she didn’t say anything, he went on “Well… I’ve been frustrated and angry recently, so you got the full package of that the other day… Last weekend… when you came here… I know I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did, but…” He paused, swallowed hard and continued “As it is… if you must know… I was hurt, and I was upset. And I was… bewildered...” The last word came out loudly, in a strangely accusatory way.

She didn’t say anything, just looked at him inquiringly. Nervously, he licked his lips – it seemed out of character for her to be so quiet. He wondered what she thought of him. Well, never mind, he might as well finish this… it couldn’t really get any worse, and he had nothing to lose. Except for his pride, but then again, how much did that really mean any more? It was all or nothing now.

“And now… now I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry for blowing up, but… It’s been a somewhat challenging time lately, with all these social events and everything… I think it’s just been a bit much. Your visit… after the party… caught me off guard, and I just… well, exploded when you asked me all those things. I’m still not sure why you asked them. I’m afraid I’m clueless.” He shrugged. “Right – well, I guess - I’m also a lot of other things, like… boring and staid and grumpy and all the things you’ve ever called me, not to mention just average looking, cranky and admittedly unspectacular, and – what’s probably worst – English! Not that this really is of any significance in this context, but anyway…”

He paused for a moment before he continued “I also realise that I’m older than you. And I bloody well know you are out of my league. However, believe it or not, I might be older than you, and I might be English, but I’m neither dead inside, nor made of stone. I’m a man, and I do have feelings and wishes and dreams… oh yes, dreams! - and… all that. Just so you know… But whatever… Oh, never mind. I’ve got by on my own very well so far. Oh yes, I have!”

His voice had become louder, and he was now glaring at her. Camille opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off by lifting his hand.

There was a moment of complete silence. He sounded tired when he finally said “But now… it’s different. And this… this confuses me. I don’t know what I want any more. I thought I was happy on my own. I thought I didn’t want anything else. Maybe the occasional get-together with… friends… or rather acquaintances… for lack of a better word. Generally, being on my own seemed… fine. Pointless wanting something else when… Oh well. But when I saw you with your fabulous friend Marcus… He’s everything I’m not, and I felt I was missing out on something. And I felt… stupid. Left out. The connection that the two of you seemed to share was discouraging… for any outsider – more so if you wish it was different and you want to be close to someone as well but seem to be invisible to the person that you… - and even if your life depended on it, you wouldn’t know how to change things… because you just wouldn’t know what the secret code is… oh well! And – and when you didn’t come round to my place any more, I felt – lost. Abandoned. Dull. Small. Not… not good enough.”

He took a deep breath before saying “And I… missed spending time with you... I missed you. More than I had imagined I could. And I hated it.” His voice got louder again. “All that laughing, having fun and joking around with the others – and all the dancing that night… do you think that didn’t hurt me? I played my part, knowing that things would pass eventually… but – oh well… it wasn’t easy. Not that it means anything, mind you, I’m just telling like it is.” He scowled at her for a moment again, caught up in his hurt feelings.

Camille was thunderstruck. It seemed that he didn’t really expect an answer, though, so she just kept listening intently. This wasn’t his usual (fairly) logical self. This wasn’t childish pouting, either. This was the unfiltered voice of a man who felt hurt, insecure and confused.

Juliet had been right, he had needed time to come around - and now she inwardly blessed her friend for coming up with that little speech on the radio. It had made him talk, after all. And he obviously was letting out all the pent up emotions that he had kept inside for so long – she was amazed at what he said. He had said he’d missed her… that gave her hope for what might come next.

“When you were here last weekend… you asked me about Sandy and that dance. Well… Sandy and I were in the same boat: She also suffered. I might generally be fairly clueless, but I knew from the start that she loved Marcus – it was so obvious to me, I couldn’t believe that nobody saw it. She’s such a clever, spirited person, and I admired her for always putting on a brave face. But when she saw the two of you doing the tango… she just couldn’t take it any more, and when she was about to break down, I noticed. So, I danced with her because she was sad and felt left out, that was pretty much everything. I already said so. But well… I was sad and felt left out, too. So… that’s how it all happened. And it felt good and right.” He glowered at her again, clarifying “Not that I owe you an explanation, but – oh well.”

And then, in a frustrated, desperate outburst, he came out with “But while we’re at it I might as well tell you… had it been you I had danced with, it would have meant so much more to me.”

Silence. He looked at her from the far end of the veranda, trying to figure out what she might think of him. Was he making a fool of himself? Oh, it was so hard to pluck up the courage to express his feelings more clearly… but he couldn’t really turn and run again now, could he?

After a few moments of struggling, he stuttered anxiously “Because yes, it’s true… you – you are special to me, and I do care about you… But I didn’t stand a chance that night… I never did… I’m not… Well, you never looked my way. You were too busy having fun with your awfully pleasant, tall, gregarious friend… and I was… too afraid to ask, anyway… I’m always too afraid…”

His voice died down, and his head sank. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and now shoved both hands into his hair in a gesture of desperation and anguish, folding them at the back of his head, so his hair stood off in a mess, but Camille didn’t even notice that. She was trying to take in what he had just admitted…

She didn’t dare to move as he took up his stride again and suddenly stopped in front of her. He was like a coiled spring. His whole body was tense. His hands that had briefly been clenched in fists were rhythmically opening and closing again now, his arms were like ramrods, pressed to his sides. She could see from the perplexed expression on his face and the hint of incredulity in his gaze that he was slowly beginning to understand what he had revealed.

Obviously, it had been several decades since he had spoken about his feelings so openly – and for a moment he was frightened she might feel pity or laugh at him. What had he done?

Camille, however, was not in the mood for laughing. And pity was not what she felt, either. She was deeply touched by his words, and she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. He cared for her… It was all she could have wished to hear from him – and more.

For a moment she was unsure how to react. This was their moment of truth, and she needed him to know that she was serious about their relationship, whatever it was and whatever they’d want it to be from now on. He had taken the risk to be completely open – she owed it to him to be honest, too. No ‘strategies’, no beating around the bush. However, an impulsive embrace – that would perhaps terrify him, considering the state he was in. She’d have to be cautious so she wouldn’t overwhelm him.

Slowly, she got up and moved closer to him. Much to her relief, he didn’t back off. Her voice was slightly shaky when she began to speak, but she said earnestly “Richard, you don’t have to get by on your own any more. You have me now… I’ve said it before, and… I mean it. I’m not out of your league. I’m here… Just look at me!”

He did look at her, and his gaze gave her the shivers – it was raw, open, intense… And she also noticed a hint of fear and a certain longing in his eyes. A longing that she felt, too.

Her mouth was dry. A little nervously and very carefully, she took his hands, put them lightly on her hips and whispered softly “Richard… listen… I’m real, and I’m here because I care about you. And… and I want you... I can’t tell you how much… Those past few weeks have been challenging for me, too. Yes, it was fun to spend time with Marcus – and I had promised to help him, you know… but it also was a strain. However, I couldn’t back out, even though it turned out to be more time-consuming and energy-draining than anticipated. On top of that, I felt _gauche_ , dumb and small, and I was jealous. You spoke about Marcus being so different from you – well, you know, Sandy Neville is everything I’m not – sophisticated, refined, delicate… You… you seemed to think so highly of her, the two of you seemed to have so much in common, and I felt… left behind. Then, that evening… I waited out all the slow dances – admittedly, there weren’t many, but the ones that they played… I waited for you, but you never came. I felt broken and defeated when I saw you dancing with Sandy… after you had turned me down so often, that felt like a punch right between the eyes.”

She swallowed hard and continued haltingly “I cried so much that night. When I came to see you, I thought I had calmed down, but I hadn’t. I was already strung out when I arrived, and – oh well… I know I haven’t been tactful or understanding… I’m so sorry for that. It’s just that I felt so… so hurt. And I’ve been… so terribly lonely since we had that fall-out last weekend. I’ve missed you. So badly…”

Her voice cracked, her eyes were wide and shiny, gleaming with unshed tears.

“And I’ve been confused, too… and scared… and - and I cried buckets because I thought I’d driven you away and you didn’t care about me at all… I don’t want to be without you… I need you… Let me show you… Please… Don’t be afraid. Just feel me, Richard!” – and she let her hands slide up his arms to his shoulders and around his neck, pressing herself against him – and after a few seconds full of fear that he might push her away, he finally broke away from his stupor and reacted by gently stroking her hips and then pulling her firmly towards him. She sighed and whispered his name again – tenderly… enticingly…

The faint scent of her perfume engulfed him. Fruity. Fresh. Sensual. Intoxicating. Arousal suddenly swirled through him as he felt her body so close to his, her hands in his hair now. Oh, this felt good, so very, very good… Even better than he had imagined!

A little shyly, his lips touched her temple, and then he buried his head in her hair for a moment, closing his eyes and relishing her nearness. He felt one of her hands stroking the nape of his neck, her fingers slipped inside the collar of his shirt, caressing his sensitive skin. He shivered with pleasure – it had been so long since he had been touched by anyone that way… he had forgotten how good it felt.

He wanted, no… he needed her to be even closer than this, touch her, feel more of her… She had just said that she wanted him… that she had felt lonely… that she had cried over him – over him! - and she had said that she had been scared, too… just like him, she had suffered.

No, they shouldn’t suffer any more… They had deserved better! Much better…

He heard her sighing again, ever so softly, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He did the only thing he could do at this point: He surrendered.

The intensity of his reaction made them both stagger a little – his lips found hers in a fervent kiss, and Camille felt his body responding to hers ardently. His arms tightened around her, then – as he loosened his grip a little - his eager hands began to explore her lovingly… hesitantly at first, but then with more confidence, and she felt them searching for bare skin and moving up under her blouse, touching her softly, fondling her breasts… his thumbs were brushing lightly over her pointed nipples that were still safely covered by her bra, but had reacted to his touch immediately, and she felt desire welling up. She heard him breathing her name several times – it almost sounded like a mantra. His lips caressed her face, the corners of her mouth, her closed eyes, her neck… and Camille gasped and let out a delighted moan.

The soft, blissful sound made him realise where they were – and although the beach was as empty and secluded as always, it didn’t feel right to continue their actions right there on the veranda – even if it was dark, and only an obscure little lamp was shedding some light.

He couldn’t bear to let her go, though. He was determined to keep her in his arms, holding her as closely as he could… they moved towards the veranda door, he fumbled with one hand to open the door, and with some difficulty, but amazingly little loss of body contact, they managed to get inside. In the twilight, they shuffled around a bit as they continued to kiss more greedily now, only interrupted by the occasional breaking for air and gasping, and then they finally fell on the bed together and got lost in their desire.

Richard suddenly realised he had no problems understanding the code of communication as he pushed up and discarded Camille’s blouse, hastily helped her to get out of her skirt and underwear and felt her tugging at his shirt, opening his belt and getting rid of the last pieces of clothing between them. Then her tender hands were on his skin, touching and stroking him gently, her lips were caressing him…

There was no awkwardness, no self-consciousness, no indecisiveness – only the overwhelming wish to be with her, touch her, feel her, love her and make her happy…

“Camille?” he whispered hoarsely – and her answer came softly, but instantly and unhesitatingly: “Yes, Richard, oh yes…” And she looped a leg around him, pulling him towards her – close, closer still…

His last conscious thought before losing himself completely was that this was what he had always wanted, and none of his experiences prior to this could compare.

**************

The moon shed its silvery white light into his little shack. Richard admired the swing of her hips and her long lithe legs as she moved… He marvelled at what had happened just a little while ago. He couldn’t quite believe that it hadn’t been a dream – but then, his dreams never had ended like this… And of course, in his dreams he had never felt how smooth and supple Camille’s skin was, he hadn’t heard her delighted sighs and moans, and he hadn’t seen her eyes closing and opening again widely in ecstasy…

This was so much better than any dream could ever be… He hadn’t had the faintest idea of what it would be like to have her in his arms, whispering his name and encouraging him to do things he wouldn’t have dared to imagine she’d ever allow him to do… When he had turned around a few hours ago and rushed back to the Rover, suddenly determined that they had to talk, no matter how hard it would be, he certainly hadn’t imagined that this would happen – but he was definitely not complaining!

As if he had to make sure again that she was real, he began to let his hand wander over Camille’s torso, admiring the contrast of his own light skin to her caramel coloured body, and observing her reactions. She sighed happily as she felt his hand caressing her breast and moving to her waist and hip from there. The hand paused, then moved on to the smooth inside of her thighs. For someone who usually was so inhibited, he was remarkably forward now. The way his eyes wandered over her body… never ever had she imagined he’d look at her like this…

Oh, what a pair of fools they had been! And each of them had felt so alone and isolated with their emotions…

“Richard,” she whispered and shifted slightly so it was easier for him to let his hand roam further. “Hm?” was his response, a little muffled as he was now caressing her neck with his lips. She let out a small gasp and went on “You’re not angry and frustrated now?” Much to her delight, he just laughed softly, and she continued “And you’re not scared and bewildered any more, either, are you?” “No… but only because you are here with me. And you?” he whispered. “Me neither, but if I had to go and leave you here… then I might get scared again…”

She felt his hand on her skin, and she shivered as he touched a sensitive spot. “Well,” he murmured huskily, “then I guess the best option is that you stay here, hm?” She whispered “I hoped you would say that… I don’t really want to go now – _oh, what are you doing there?_ ” She inhaled sharply, her eyes widened, and he replied slightly anxiously “I hope this is – er - okay? I might not be any good at it, but I’m trying to show you how much I care…”

Her hands were in his hair again now, pulling him closer, and her voice was little more than a murmur when she gave him to understand that he was actually very good at what he was doing… Even that murmur got rather inarticulate after a few more moments and finally faded, turning into a long, happy sigh.

They didn’t speak for a while, but that was okay – they would talk later… The most important things had been said already – everything else could wait until later. After all, this was only the beginning for them. Whatever would come their way - they’d work it out - together.

And neither of them would be alone any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song references:
> 
> “Bad Boy” was the second single released by the American band Miami Sound Machine led by Gloria Estefan on their second English language album, and ninth overall, Primitive Love. It came out in 1985.
> 
>  
> 
> “Alone” is what made me write this story. It was on the radio one day, and I thought “Wow, so much pain in this! It makes a good theme song for a story.” And voilà, there you go…
> 
> “Alone” is a song composed by Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly. It first appeared via Steinberg and Kelly's 1983 pet project, I-Ten, on Taking a Cold Look. It was later recorded by Valerie Stevenson and John Stamos in their roles as Lisa Copley and Gino Minelli, on the original soundtrack of the CBS sitcom Dreams in 1984. 
> 
> American rock band Heart made it a number-one US and Canadian hit in 1987. Twenty years later, Celine Dion recorded it for her album Taking.
> 
> I really don’t like the Celine Dion version, though, so it had to be the Heart version here.


End file.
